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BOSTON INSIDE OUT! 


SINS OF A GREAT CITY! 


A STORY OF REAL LIFE. 


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BY 


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Rev. HENRY MORGAN, 


Author of “Ned Nevins, the Newsboy,” “ Shadowy Hand; v r, Life 
Struggles,” and “Music Hall Discourses.” 


TENTH THOUSAND, REVISED AND ENLARGED. 


BOSTON: • 

SHAWMUT PUBLISHING COMPANY 

81 Shawmut Avenue. 

1880. 




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PREFACE TO THE FIFTH THOUSAND. 


A few weeks only, and " Boston Inside 
Out” reaches its fifth thousand. I have 
waited for the critics, and they have spoken. 
How is my time to speak. My life-work 
gives me the right to speak. For twenty 
years and more have I toiled for the down- 
trodden, the poor, battled against vice and 
crime in Boston. I have battled, sacrificed, 
and toiled as no other man has done. To 
self-indulgence I have been a stranger. My 
life has been almost a torture. Ho vacation, 
no recreation, nothing but toil, toil, toil! 
The burdens of a sin-stricken people have 
oppressed me. The sorrows of lost souls 
have stricken me down to the borders of 
the grave. Poor newsboys have burdened 
my soul. At times, death has seemed my 
only relief. 

During all these years not an unkind word 
has come from the Boston press. Ho barbed 


PKEFACE. 


ii 

criticisms, no sly sneer, no sarcastic taunt. 
The papers have berated Beecher, assailed 
Talmadge, handled Murray without gloves, 
caricatured Joseph Cook; but Henry Mor- 
gan they have not assailed. They have re- 
spected my motives and my character. 

Yet this same press I must now con- 
demn. I must strike at the house of my 
friends. Why? Because the papers are 
derelict in duty, watchmen that do not warn. 
What hope with a blind press and a silent 
pulpit ! Why, all the evils of which I write 
were known to the daily press before I sent 
my agents into the field. All the sins and 
crimes and scandals in high places. The 
chief mission of the press seems to be, not 
to expose, not to warn, not to give the news, 
but to suppress facts, to hide pitfalls, to 
conceal crime, and to divert attention. It 
puffs every boat race, ball club, dog show, 
cat show, horse race, prize fight, lottery swin- 
dle, and every questionable theatrical clap- 
trap; but moral reform has no advertise- 
ments, piety don’t pay. Hence its silence. 
Even Father Titus’s crimes were known and 


PREFACE. 


ill 

whispered to the press, but hushed. If all 
his deeds were published or exposed, then not 
another mass would be said before his body 
would be removed from beneath the altar 
which it desecrates, and the church be ex- 
onerated from the stain. If the deeds of 
a dozen other priests now known to the press 
were given to the light, then the church build- 
ings that have shielded them in their crimes 
would not only be taxed, but they would be 
threatened with the fate of the Ursuline 
Convent. No wonder vice abounds ! 

Lightning strikes the tallest trees, but 
justice in Boston takes only the underbrush. 
I have spared neither sect nor creed, not even 
the tall sycamores of Beacon Hill nor the 
underbrush of North Street. 

Some say " gross exaggeration.” Well, the 
drinking scene at the Gildersleeves’ is col- 
ored so as to present a dozen St. Botolph 
clubs in one. But the criminal facts are not 
colored; indeed, the half hath not been told. 

Boston is a representative city of America. 
As goes Boston so go the rest. What is the 
moral? It is this: "Flee the great cities 1 


iv 


PREFACE. 


Oh young man, happy in your country home, 
come not to the great city ! Flee its tempta- 
tions, its poverty, and its crimes. Bring not 
the Sarahs of your early love to the tents of 
the Abimelechs, or the palaces of the Pha- 
raohs. Anchor not among the shoals and 
quicksands of city life.” 

My text is the " Torch on Beacon Hill,” 
graven on the back of the book. As that 
beacon torch once lighted ships entering 
Boston Harbor, warning them of danger, so 
the canvassers of this book, from ~New Eng- 
land hills to the Pacific slope, cry, w Flee the 
sirens of the metropolis. Take no stock in 
the gambler’s art. Woe to the unfortunate 
when he falls. Heaven save him, for he will 
have no helper.” 

Nearly all the living characters have vis- 
ited me and commented upon the book. Mr. 
Eyeglass Slippers thinks the book a slander 
on "doot thociety; it ought to be thup* 
pressed.” Jonathan Jerks is angry because 
half his facts were not allowed in print. Mrs. 
Dawkins still mourns over the fate of Frank 
Gildersleeve. 


PREFACE. 


V 


The servants at the "Haunted House” 
have again and again come to verify their 
story of the ghosts. One shows marks of 
ghostly scratches on the arm. Ghosts are 
as real to her as purgatory itself. Sambo 
alone is missing. Hose Delaney swears to 
facts more abhorrent than any I have writ- 
ten. She declares her first and only false 
step was by priestly solicitation. 

Poor Minnie Marston is to be pitied. I 
intended a second volume with the story of 
her life, but death will close the narrative. 
When from out the hospital she came to see 
me, a wreck of health and of hope, her child 
dead, her lungs consumed, I said, " Can this 
be the young, the gifted, the beautiful Min- 
nie Marston, the child of so many prayers 
and parental hopes, the child, strong and con- 
fident in her own innocence, that launched her 
tiny bark out on a sea of temptation and was 
wrecked by another’s hands?” Little did 1 
know of the fatal consequences when I mar- 
ried her to Prank Gildersleeve. Little did I 
think that my dimly lighted room at eventide 
was to foreshadow such dire calamities. 

Once more I lift my voice and cry 


vi 


PREFACE. 


against the "sins of a great city.” I ad- 
jure the young, "Be contented in your 
country homes.” 

Dick Forceps is still at large, plying his 
calling. He led one young man into a den 
on Howard Street and fleeced him out of 
$1,100 in a single night. He got another 
entangled with an actress to the tune of 
$4,000. Both young men walk in high cir- 
cles. Madame Chastini has been several 
times arrested, but never brought to trial. 
She has wealthy bondsmen, who are under 
strong obligations to her; they have mighty 
influence in court. 

I have omitted the chapters on the " Farce 
of Court Square” and the "Burlesque of 
Justice.” I may replace them yet. Still 
my book and lectures have done some good. 
They have opened the eyes of the public, 
stirred the authorities to action, caused crim- 
inals in high places to hide their diminished 
heads, and some to repent in dust and ashes. 
My prayer is, — 

"Utinam Deus aux iliarit Bostoniam.” 

Oh that God would come to the rescue of 
Boston ! 


PREFACE TO THE TENTH THOUSAND. 


The demand for "Boston Inside Out” 
echoes the key-note of an awakened nation. 
Issued in the heat of summer, it reaches its 
tenth thousand before the fall of the autumn 
leaf. Already in thirty States it sounds 
notes of alarm against the " sins of a great 
city.” 

Still the book is not perfect. Jonathan 
Jerks met with woful treatment by my 
scribes. Jonathan’s courtship is expunged. 
Mrs. Dawkins did not receive her deserts. 
She gave me more information on " sins of 
high life ” than all other persons. 

The troubles of John Delaney were written 
by his own hand. I hold the copy. The 
sworn facts of seven years of priestly inti- 
macy have not been denied. Even Catho- 
lics laugh at the crime as a thing common 
among celebates. " Priests are privileged; 
they have not the comforts of family life. 


PREFACE. 


viii 

Poor souls! ” John Delaney also wrote up 
the history of many other priests who were 
given to appetite and lust. 

No wonder, under such spiritual leader- 
ship, Boston has gone to the bad. Whole 
blocks, and almost whole streets, with men 
and women living in open adultery! No 
police to arrest, none to make complaint! 

Under the eaves of my church is a bad 
house that has cost me $200 a year for ten 
years. How? Well, I will tell you. By 
the side of my church I have a dwelling that 
opens across a narrow lane upon that bad 
house. In summer time windows are open, 
and bawdy words and deeds from scores of 
men and women, black and white, must be 
witnessed. My rooms facing that house 
will not rent for half price. Noisy troops 
are marching in and out with hideous 
sounds until two o’clock in the morning. 

One of the authorities said to me, " Mr. 
Morgan ! why don’t you buy the house ? ” I 
said, " Because, sir, that would set a pre- 
mium on crime. Bad houses rent best. 
They thrive on the reputation of others. 
TVTiere they gain $100, others must suffer 
$1,000. If I buy that house, the money goes 


PREFACE. 


IX 


for another just like it. The estate owns 
twelve. All got by doctoring the unfortu- 
nate ! All now used to make unfortunates ! 
No party is ejected from one house till there 
is an opening in another. No police dare 
molest. A few Sundays ago, right in broad 
daylight, a fight of blacks and whites broke 
up the church service, drew together hun- 
dreds by yells and imprecations ; yet nobody 
was arrested. The policeman only whispers 
to the black amazon who runs the house, 
then sees the owner, and all is hushed! Buy 
it out! No, sir! Let it he cleaned out! 
Clean out the house, sir, on clean- out the 
Police Commission!” 

Since then, that house has been quiet. 
The commissioners, knowing their heads 
were for the block, have bestirred them- 
selves. By private detectives, the frail ones 
on the street have been scattered; this 
shows what can be done by a strong police. 

Newspapers have already shown respect 
for reform. Clairvoyant advertisements have 
been excluded from all the dailies save one; 
lotteries from all; quack doctors are at a 
discount. One paper agreed not to publish 
my lecture, if the quack who prosecuted me 


X 


PREFACE. 


would advertise heavily. He did advertise. 
He ran up the hill to $1,300, hut refused to 
pay, was sued, sent to jail, at last took the 
poor debtor’s oath, and the paper, paying 
cost and board, got nothing. 

To reform great cities, you must reform 
the daily press. Its lightnings speak from 
the ends of the earth ; its intelligence flashes 
with every morning meal. The press is part 
of our being, our piety, our virtue, our life ; 
yet what has done more to corrupt society? 

"Who builds up the monopolist? makes 
the rich richer, the poor poorer? adver- 
tising the rich man’s wares at half price, 
charging the poor man double? 

Who suppresses the rich man’s crimes, 
yet exposes the sins of the poor and weak? 
Who praises temperance in theory, but al- 
ways throws its weight for the liquor in- 
terest? The daily press. 

Who puffs to the skies the lowest theatres? 
Hires the best reporters to write up the 
horse race, wrestling match, prize fight, not 
to expose them, but to make them doubly 
attractive? 

Who demoralizes society by placing be- 
fore it reports of every murder, robbery, and 


PREFACE . 


xi 


scandal within a thousand miles, for Chris- 
tian family reading? 

Who breaks down the Sabbath? swells 
the steamboat and railroad excursion? paints 
in gaudy hues their wonderful value and 
virtue ? 

Who empty the churches? Make men 
dissatisfied with Sabbath devotions? Rob 
the workingman of his rights, his Sabbath, 
his rest, his wages, his home hours, by 
pandering to the greed of capitalists ? 

Reform the press, and you reform the 
Christian world ! If Lucifer, " Son of the 
Morning,” had fallen at this late date, he 
would start a newspaper, write editorials on 
piety and temperance, get the sanction of 
the bishop to increase its circulation for 
liquor and lottery advertisements. He would 
advocate prohibition ; then, just before 
election, sell out to the liquor party. Would 
decry the aggressions of Catholicism, with 
a Jesuit at the counter, and a Jesuit in the 
chair, to suppress all church and priestly 
scandal. In fact, Lucifer in Boston would 
not materially change the editorial status of 
the once Puritan city. 


xii 


PREFACE. 


Reform the Boston press, and Boston will 
be redeemed. 

Seated on her triune hills, a Venice of the 
sea, her golden dome rising like a star over 
her island shores, day spring of hope to the 
oppressed and benighted of the Old World, 
and pride of the New; her intelligence ra- 
diant with churches, schools, and colleges 
emblazoned on every New England hill, her 
benedictions sending greeting to all her 
children of the far West, the halo of her 
glory travelling with the sun to the Golden 
Gate, and setting with benign effulgence on 
every distant New England child! Such 
will Boston become when reclaimed ! Who 
will not be proud of her? What child of 
this great Union will not rise from his 
knees to bless her? Hasten the time, O 
God, when Boston, proud Boston, shall 
humble herself in the dust, repent of her 
sins, be cleansed from her heaven-defying 
crimes, rise from her ashes, and stand 
among the foremost of the cities of the 
world ! 


CONTENTS, 


Chapter Page 

Introductory. Why this Expose 5 

I. Outward Bound. — Gildersleeves of Beacon 

Hill 21 

II. Paris or Boston, Which? — Jerks, Slippers, Sun- 

day Horse-Race 41 

III. Lecture in Boston Music Hall. — Dark Revela- 

tions of Crime 57 

IV. Gildersleeve Mansion. — Servants in a Frolic. . . 71 

V. Visit to Mr. Gildersleeve’s Office. — My Agents 

at Work 86 

V I. Midnight at the Huh. — My own Explorations . . 98 

VII. On the Common. — Frank meets Minnie 108 

VIII. Frank in the Dentist’s Office. — Minnie tells her 

History 116 

IX. Minnie at the Theatre. — J erks on Boston’s Fun, 124 

X. Frank and Forceps at Faro Bank. — Jerks 

“ turning the Crank ” 132 

XI. The Sibyl invoked. — Minnie has her Fortune 

told 142 

X II. A Diabolical Plot. — Frank on his Knees 152 

XIII. The Gildersleeves at Home. — Dining and Win- 

ing on Beacon Hill 163 

XIV. Minnie’s Troubles. — On the Brighton Road 178 

XV. In the Grand Stand. — Jerks and Slippers on 

Trotting Parks 188 

XVI. Liberalism vs. Catholicism. — Mr. Poindexter 

and Father Titus 202 

XVII. Rose Delaney goes to Church. — Spider and Fly, 211 
XVIII. The Jealousy of a Niece. — Rose’s Temptation 
and Fall 


221 


4 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

XIX. Hose’s "Remorse and Contrition. — Happy Home 

destroyed 233 

XX. Madame Chastini and Forceps. — Two Partners 

in Crime 238 

XXI. Minnie’s Wedding Night. — Doubts and Fears . . 244 

XXII. Minnie Deserted. — A Startling Revelation .... 256 
XXIII. Minnie and Mrs. Gildersleeve. — Mother and 

Son 276 

XXIV. Pose Delaney in the Toils. — Preparation for a 

Journey 295 

XXV. Spiritual Uncle and Niece. — A Visit to New 

York 303 

XXVI. Minnie’s Wanderings. — Alone in a Great City, 312 
XXVII. John’s First Suspicions. — Shadows on the Cur- 
tain 321 

XXVIII. Rose’s Confession. — A Husband’s Terrible 

Grief! 331 

XXIX. The New Hampshire Farm. — Minnie’s Country 

Home 339 

XXX. Driven to Despair. — Minnie takes the Fatal 

Draught 352 

XXXI. The Streets at Night. — A Father’s Search for 

his Lost Lamb 362 

XXXII. Jerks and Sambo take a Stroll. — From Eve to 

Dawn 372 

XXXIII. The Undertaker’s Story. — Rev. John Marston’s 

Gleam of Hope 378 

XXXIV. Frank’s Appeal to his Mother. — Sent to the 

Asylum 392 

XXXV. In a Mad-House. — Funeral without a Mourner, 411 
XXXVI. Minnie found at Last. — Pathetic Meeting of 

Child and Parents 423 

XXXVII. The Haunted House. — Gertrude’s Visions 433 

XXXVIII. Jerks to the Rescue. — The Proud Mother 

humbled 446 

XXXIX. Gertrude’s Infatuation. — A Convent or the 

Tomb 455 

XL. Last Night Alive. — Father Titus’s Tragic End, 467 
XLI. Funeral of Father Titus.— Sinners in Broadcloth, 481 
XLII. Cost of Boston’s Fun. — Fun, Fun, Bread or 

no Bread 493 


INTRODUCTION. 


WHY THIS EXPOSE? 

Truth is stranger than fiction. Two years ago 
if an angel from heaven had told me what I 
have since learned I should not have believed the 
•report. 

When I was in Paris, I found it fashionable 
for certain Americans to condemn America ; for 
Bostonians even, to decry Boston. Men Avho had 
obtained fortunes by questionable means, some by 
bogus stocks, quackery, and shoddy, .some by 
oppressing mill hands, longest hours, shortest 
wages, some by renting disreputable houses, these 
were first and loudest to condemn Boston. "Worse 
than Paris! Worse than Paris!” said one in our 
Paris hotel. 

" What ! ” said I, " Boston worse than Paris ! 
Then I am needed at home ; I cannot spend money 
abroad with these cries in my ears.” 

Now I had willed the property acquired by my 
lectures to the fraternity of churches in Boston 
for carrying the gospel to the poor. My church, 


INTRODUCTION. 


dwellings, bank stock, with an income of $3,000 
a year, for preaching. 

What ! Boston so bad ! And the gospel so 
inefficient ! Then I will spend part of this estate 
in striving to reform Boston while I live. I started 
for home, and on arriving I hired over fifty agents 
to probe Boston’s sins ; over twenty to write up 
the facts embodied in this book. 

Not half my facts have I used. The most 
startling have been suppressed. Some of the 
characters have been veiled to cover reputations 
that suffer, heads that ache, and hearts that bleed. 
If no awakening is produced, no action taken to 
suppress the evils I expose, no warning note 
sounded by pulpit, press, or people, then I shall 
be heard again. Then I shall publish a key of 
these facts, also facts withheld, giving names, 
dates, places, and particulars. 

Among my agents were ex-officials, ex-police- 
men, ex-drinkers, ex-gamblers, ex-priests, ex- 
undertakers, and ex-hackmen. Now, what a hack- 
man don’t know ” ain’t worth hnowin ’.” 

One of my agents, a female, visited the secret 
lying-in hospitals ; " baby farms,” so called. These 
are a branch of husbandry not set down in works 
of agriculture. Baby farming is a kind of hus- 
bandry where the husbands are generally minus, 
non est inventus . 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


My ngent said to one, " Have you any children 
you want to get homes for ? ” 

"Yes, madam. Walk right in. I have got 
five, the dearest little pets in the world. Some 
fat, some lean, all as lively as crickets.” How- 
ever, my agent could find none to suit. 

" Are these all you have ? ” 

"Yes, all just now. I have been here only a 
month.” 

"How many babies have you received in that 
time ? ” 

"Only about thirty; business, you see, hasn’t 
found me out yet. I shall do better by and by. 
Why, I have cared for three hundred babies in a 
year.” 

" Good gracious ! How benevolent you must 
be!” 

"Yes, my work is a great charity ! But some- 
how, folks don’t see it in that light. Police are 
ever on the watch, and I have to move often, you 
see.” 

One of these female physicians was arrested and 
brought to court, one baby found dead in the 
room. The judge asked, " Have you any di- 
ploma ? ” 

"No, your Honor! My diploma is from the 
higher powers. Mine is a benevolent institution ! 
What would city folks do without me? What 
would you do, Mr. Judge?” 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


And the judge colored and blushed, and tried 
to smile. 

"And what would you do, gentlemen attor- 
neys ? ” 

And the attorneys blushed and tried to smile. 
Then said the judge to the attorneys, "Do you 
wish to persecute this poor woman ? ” 

"Oh, no! no! no! your Honor! We wish 
nothing of the sort.” 

" Then I will place the case on file, and let her 
go on her own recognizance without bail.” 

So she went out with a high head, has been run- 
ning the same establishment, advertising "board 
and nursing” ever since. She declared in court 
she could have disposed of the baby for a dollar, 
but had neglected' to do so. 

Many of these illicit death-pens, however, were 
invaded and broken up. Babies were found dead 
on the floor, on the shelf, and m the bureau 
drawer. 

Some visited the quack doctors. Of the two 
hundred quacks m Boston, only about a dozen 
are graduates from any institutions, except penal 
ones. Many have no medical certificate, except 
from the jail. They have been arrested for mur- 
der, prenatal murder, passing obscene literature 
through the mail, passing counterfeit money, 
forgery, baby farming, keeping disreputable 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


houses, and black-mailing. Yet these are called 
doctors . " Medici Doctores .” 

Some have purchased diplomas from bogus 
medical colleges at $5 and $10 apiece. One 
graduated from a horse-car, having no certificate 
but a bell-punch. He, however, is not the head 
of an advertised institution. He left the bell- 
punch when he could n’t make it work to his 
profit. One graduated from a gambling den, 
then worked at his trade, a painter, then turned 
" doctor .” Alas ! for the painter’s medical skill, 
the first patient he doctored was found dead in 
his room. He was taken to jail, but escaped for 
lack of evidence. One boasts that ne has brought 
2,000 into the world, but don’t say how many of 
them were alive. He was arresied a year ago for 
malpractice upon a mother from Dedham. 

Some of these quacks are very pious. They 
invoke the spirits. One was a butcher, who 
cured by laying on of hands. He touched the 
lame, and "they did leap as a hart.” He retained 
their crutches as tiophies of his healing power. 
When exhausted he retired to a private room to 
recuperate, leaving scores of patients waiting in 
rows extending far into the street. He said he 
retired to communicate witn the Spirit, get help 
from on high. The truth is, he communicated 
with a pocket battery charged with electricity. 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


He purchased the battery on Bromfield Street. 
From his lingers oozed the healiny sparks of life. 

Five dollars a touch, and five hundred touched 
in a few hours ! It was only to touch and be 
touched, and you are healed ! Oh, the efficacy, 
the healing power of a touch ! Who would not 
be touched, and who would not be healed for $5 ? 

Others of my agents visited the faro-banks, 
policy shops, and lottery dens. I had eighteen 
policy dealers arrested at one time. They were 
indicted by the grand jury, but all of them 
escaped! Why? Not for lack of testimony, but 
for lack of public opinion to back the law ! 

Churches were at the same time advertising 

© 

lotteries. Law cannot make fish of one and flesh 
of another. I therefore publicly declared in 
Boston Music Hall that "the first church in 
Boston, of whatever sect or creed, that sets up, 
advertises, or promotes a lottery, shall be prose- 
cuted to the full extent of the law.” 

The first fair advertised was the Cathedral Fair 
under Archbishop Williams. A committee of 
nine had been appointed on " lotteries .” 

I wrote an open letter to the Archbishop, stat- 
ing my vow, my determination, and reciting the 
law. 

The law says, "Every person who sells or 
offers to sell any ticket, number, chance, or token 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


by lottery or raffle is subject to a fine not exceed- 
ing $2,000.” Also, "Whoever aids either by 
printing, writing, advertising, or is in any way 
concerned in setting up a raffle or lottery, is sub- 
ject to the same line.” And again, "Whoever 
lets or allows a building to be used for such pur- 
poses is also liable.” 

Now it may be said, "These lotteries are for 
charity.” 

Yes, but no Christian would lie or steal for 
charity. Then why gamble? Gambling is a 
worse evil than theft. It causes more deaths than 
murder. It poisons a larger class ; is harder to 
suppress. I can name six recent suicides in and 
around Boston, all from gambling. These are 
more than all the murders in the State during 
the same time. Some took their first lessons at 
the church fair. 

" But we want money ! Must have it ! ” Ay ! 
And what church can command more money than 
the Catholic? The richest organization on the 
face of the globe. The whole Democratic party 
bows to its bidding. It holds the political purse- 
strings of the nation. One sixteenth of the taxes 
of New York City are paid to the church. Mayors 
and governors are its tools. Let Tammany’s 
chief come to Boston Theatre on Sunday night, 
and all the leading State and city officials must 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


play "figure-head” to the ceremony. No church 
is so exempt from taxation. Millions upon mill- 
ions of property untaxed ! The church in which 
this fair was held is untaxed, though not now used 
for religious worship. While my church, always 
open for worship, is taxed to the utmost limit. 

When the Cathedral fair opened, my agents 
were on hand to buy tickets. 

" Who are these tickets for ? ” 

" For Mr. Morgan.” 

" For what purpose ?” 

"He wishes to execute the laws against -rafflino*.” 

"Very well. Tell Mr. Morgan he need not 
trouble himself further. Public opinion and the 
laws shall be respected.” 

That night lottery tickets were withdrawn and 
the "wheels of fortune” turned upside down. 
Afterwards, however, there were "shares” sold, 
but not such as came within the letter of the law. 
Thus the Catholics yielded to public sentiment. 

When the gamblers combined to deprive me of 
Boston Music Hall, when the quack doctors had 
sued me for $10,000, putting an attachment on 
my church, the excuse for closing the hall was 
that I had offended the Catholics. They would 
raise a mob and "nm off with the big organ!” I 
said, " This is a mistake. The Catholics are my 
friends. My night-school boys, bootblacks, and 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


newsboys were mostly Catholics. The man that 
helped me. repair my church more than all others, 
giving a thousand dollars to the work, was 
a Catholic. The men that have written me more 
congratulatory letters on church reform — more 
than I have received from all other sects com- 
bined — are also Catholics. 

The advanced Catholic sees danger to the 
church. Infidelity has become a colossal giant. 
It says, "Churches shall be taxed, and more, 
the church that degrades manhood, undermines 
public schools, breeds ignorant paupers and 
drunkards, is a tool for demagogues, votes 
solidly with the lawless, that church shall come 
under a ban ! A united church to any party is 
more dangerous than a united South. Jesuits in 
America shall be treated like Jesuits in republi- 
can France.” 

Now the above charges are not all true, but 
they have a grain of truth. Nothing but a puri- 
fied priesthood can save the church. In these 
pages I have pictured only one delinquent priest, 
and that in faint colors. I have chosen that one 
because of his high position. Circumstances may 
compel me to paint not only one, but twenty, 
and in full colors, giving habits, location, and 
names. Heaven spare me the task ! 

Treasurers must be appointed for the church 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


under a legal corporation. Uncounted millions in 
hands of irresponsible priests are too great a 
temptation ! Most of the churches are mortgaged 
clear up to the eaves. Fairs are held, money 
raised, but the mortgage hardly ever lifted. 
Where goes the money ? I could tell a tale that 
would startle the public ear, and awaken indig- 
nation threatening and appalling, but I forbear. 
If this book shall put the priesthood on their 
guard, lessen the number of nameless luxuries, 
awaken the church to duty, then my work is 
done. Catholics as a whole are still my friends. 

Now, how about the managers of the Old South 
Fair? Well, they showed their mettle! They 
boldly advertised and advocated lotteries. In 
their organ, the " Dial,” edited by Miss Susan 
Hale, they said: "We advocate the most un- 
shrinking, wholesale, deliberate course of raffling, 
for small things or large things, for shares many 
or few, at prices of five cents or five dollars.” 
And this done when the Federal government was 
exerting all its powers to expel lottery-tickets 
from the mails. Such is Boston’s high-toned 
morality ! And the managers proceeded with the 
raffles. 

On a former occasion they christened their 
tables with pious names : " Trinity Raffle, No. 
34 ; Episcopal Raffle, No. 89 ; South Congrega- 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


tional Raffle, No. 65 ; Universalist Raffle, No. 
132.” Hard on the Universalists ! Theirs was 
the highest number ! So much for the ethics of 
high society ! 

This same " cultured” society attempted to 
reform the stage. Hard thing to reform, by the 
way ! To raise money a play was advertised. 
Now I am in for reform, so I gave my dollar for 
a ticket, — the first dollar I ever gave for the 
theatre. But what was the play? To my sur- 
prise it was "Rip Van Winkle!” The curtain 
went up and out came Rip — tight as a brick. 
"Here ’s to your health (hie! hie!) and all your 
family ! May you live long and prosper ! ” He 
staggered through two acts, then fell asleep. He 
slept twenty years. But twenty years’ soaking 
didn’t reform him. He awoke, was up and went 
at it again ! " Here’s to your health,” etc. 

Now that was a play to elevate the stage. The 
stage did n’t get elevated, but the players did ! 
They took the money and went to Parker’s. 
They dined and wined, and they toasted. " Here ’s 
to your health ! May you live long and pros- 
per ! ” That is the last we have heard of the 
reform or the money. 

Now these people are the upper-crust of society. 
But upper-crusts and under-crusts meet at the 
edges. Upper-crusts of Beacon Hill, under- 


16 


INTRODUCTION. 


crusts of North Street, — one of wine, the other 
of whiskey. 

When the Old South Fair opened, my agents 
purchased fifteen dollars’ worth of tickets. I 
went before Jud^e Parmenter and asked for a 
warrant. He said he " did not think it for the 
interest of good morals to arrest the deacons of 
Old South Church.” I said, "Deacons or no 
deacons, they should not break the law ! ” But 
they are more than deacons. They are " blue- 
bloods.” However, he refused to issue a warrant. 
I then asked Gov. Long to recommend in his 
message an act for the "better execution of the 
law against gaming.” This he did. I came before 
the Judiciary Committee with my facts. I gave 
terrible, startling facts ; so startling that I was 
silenced until the head of the police was called to 
meet me face to face. He at first refused ; pre- 
ferred a hearing in private. When at last com- 
pelled to appear, he admitted most of my facts ; 
confessed that he had a list of all the brothels and 
gambling dens, but did not think it his duty to 
suppress them ! Heaven save the mark ! 

Never was there such need of reform as to-day. 
Never in the world’s history was so much liquor 
drank as now. Never scepticism so brazen. 
Never were American pulpits so silent toward 
the gigantic sins of the age. Never so many cul- 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 


tured rascals. Never such a rage for the trashiest 
kind of theatricals. Never such demand for 
senseless novels. Never such madness for gam- 
ing. Never were lotteries so freely advertised. 
Never such a mania for church raffling. Never 
such laxness in the execution of law. Never such 
Sunday desecration. No wonder vice abounds ! 
Look at Boston’s priesthood ! Over $100,000 
spent by ecclesiastics alone in one year for cigars, 
wine, women, and horses ! Clergy of the finest 
cloth, belonging to drinking clubs ! In high 
circles sin is considered not a trangression, but a 
disease ! If a man knocks you down and breaks 
your head, he needs the plaster, not you ! If 
he steals at your back door, you must feed him 
at your front door, and "no questions asked.” 
This is the sentimentalism that nurses crime. 
Ask them how much a man may drink, and still 
be a " good, temperance man ! ” How much he 
may swear, and yet be a " pious man ! ” How 
much he may gamble, and yet be a "high-toned, 
cultured gentleman ! ” How many houses he may 
let for disreputable purposes, and yet be one of 
" our best society ! ” How many liquor-shops he 
may have open Sunday, and yet be a "pillar of 
the church ! ” How demoralizing a theatre may 
be, and yet be pronounced " pure and chaste, fit 
for our wives and daughters ! ” How far depraved 
2 


18 


INTRODUCTION. 


genius may descend toward the pit, yet be lauded 
to the skies ! 

Now the great wants of the age are the "Boan- 
erges of Thunder!” Henry Ward Beecher once 
filled the bill. When preaching on the prairie, 
acting his own sexton, ringing his own bell, 
pre'aching and lecturing to young men, thunder- 
ing against Gambling, Drinking, Licentiousness, 
delivering lectures that electrified a continent ! 
These placed him on the highest pedestal of en- 
nobled manhood ! Such was Beecher in his youth ! 
Alas ! how have the mighty fallen ! How have 
the voices of warning become hushed ! 

” Oh ! Why did n’t you warn me ? ” said a 
dying young man to his pastor on Beacon Hill. 
" If you only had warned me, showed me my dan- 
ger, I should not be dying of delirium tremens. 
You knew my weakness. Oh ! why did you not 
warn me ? But you drank with me and encour- 
aged me to drink ! ” 

What a fearful responsibility rests upon a 
preacher of the gospel ! " I have made thee a 

watchman ! If thou speakest not to warn the 
wicked, and he die in his iniquity, then his blood, 
his blood! will I require at thy hand.” Men are 
not so bad, so wicked, as they are thoughtless and 
blind. They need caution, they need warning 
with a trumpet’s voice. 


INTRODUCTION. 


19 


The brother of New England’s greatest preacher, 
himself a minister, was walking on a bridge from 
Charlestown to Boston. He was brought up in 
Boston and thought he knew the way. The high- 
way has a drawbridge ; a lantern, flag, gate, and a 
watchman to give alarm. The railroad has neither. 
This preacher, instead of taking the highway, — 
walked on the railroad track, took the wrong road. 
It was in the mist of evening. Rapt in thought, 
and in darkness, he stepped one step too far. A 
cry, a groan, a splash, a shriek, and that noble 
minister was gone forever, lost to the church and 
to the world I Why was there no flag, no warn- 
ing? Ah! He was on forbidden ground! 

Oh ! young man ! stop ! stop ! That is thy con- 
dition ! You are on forbidden ground ! Stop ! 
Stop ! The abyss is open 1 You are on the 
wrong road ! You are nearing the brink when 
you take the first glass, play the first game ! The 
drawbridge is open ! Soon a shriek, a plunge, 
and all will be over ! Oh ! stop ! stop ! and 
think, before you fall to rise no more ! 

A conductor on the train from Hartford to 
Waterbury, Ct., felt his car off the track ! What 
did he do? He rang the bell, seized the brake, 
and with his own hands held it until the cars 
collided, and he was mortally wounded. Know- 
ing that he could not live three minutes, what 

O 


20 


INTRODUCTION. 


were his last thoughts? What did he do? He 
still held the brake with one hand, waved the 
other hand, and with dying breath whispered, 
" Set the signal! Set the signal for the coming 
train! There’s another train coming! Oh! set 
: the signal! Set the signal! Stop the coming 
train!” And like a faithful watchman, he fell 
dead at his post ! 

Now, why do I reveal Boston’s dark ways? 
Why expose her snares, pitfalls, and forbidden 
paths ? It is to warn the unwary ! To awaken 
fathers and mothers to their children’s danger ! 
to a sense of duty l To fire the pulpit with 
alarm ! To arouse the church, the press, and 
public opinion. Oh ! fathers and mothers, set 
the signal for the coming train ! For your 
children and your children’s children l For gen- 
erations yet unborn ! The forests are cleared, 
the road-bed raised, the bridge is built, yet the 
track is ajar ! Lo, the cars are coming ! Your 
neighbors and your neighbors’ children ! Oh ! 
set the signal ! Set the signal for the coming 
train ! Wave the flag ! Swing the lantern ! 
Lift the voice ! Sound the whistle l King the 
bell ! Down brakes l Down brakes ! Danger 
ahead ! Friends and loved ones are at the brink ! 
Ho ! to the rescue ! to the rescue ! Set the 
signal 1 Set the signal for the coming train 1 


BOSTON INSIDE OUT. 


CHAPTER I. 

OUTWARD BOUND. — GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON 
HILL. 

" I swan ! ” said Jonathan Jerks. " What an 
everlastin’ crowd. Should think everybody was 
a goin’ ter the Paris Exposition. Hullo ! Is that 
you, Sam Slocum? Why, how du you du? 
Come down ter see a fellow off, hey? That’s 
right clever, now, I swow ter gracious ! Well, 
good by, good by ! Take care of yourself, 
my boy. Remember me ter all the folks. Tell 
Gaddy I’m goin’ ter bring her somethin’ pooty 
home from Paris. Good by ! Good by ! ” 

The speaker stood in the gangway of the Eng- 
lish steamer just clearing for Liverpool. He was 
a genuine Yankee from the Old Granite State, 
with all the peculiarities of that nearly extin- 
guished character ; with its keen , native shrewd- 
ness, its original sly humor, its sturdy independ- 
ence, together with the added characteristic which 


22 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


he had of twisting his head, twitching his eye and 
jerking his hand as if turning a crank. 

Beside him stood a man of an opposite stamp. 
He belonged to what may be called the " ornamen- 
tal ” order of society. He was foppishly dressed, 
and fairly glittered with diamonds and jewelry. 
His features were soft and effeminate, his hair 
was parted exactly in the middle, his corn-col- 
ored mustache was tastefully curled at the ends. 
Plis affected manner and his eye-glass constantly 
in hand, together with the embroidered slippers 
usually on his feet, obtained for him the cogno- 
men of "Eyeglass Slippers.” 

I was standing by the companion-way when he 
approached and said, with a lisp and a fashionable 
drawl, — 

" Ah ! There ith no doot thothiety in America. 
No culture except in Boston. Oh ! how I long 
for la telle France 1 ” 

Just then a fine-looking elderly gentleman, with 
an unmistakable air of good breeding and hio-h 
social standing, got out of a carriage which had 
driven up at great speed, and hastily approached 
the steamer. He was followed by a young man 
of twenty or thereabouts, whose resemblance to 
himself at once proclaimed close relationship. 
They were Augustus and Frank Gildersleeve, 
father and son. A bell at that moment sounded. 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON IIILL. 


23 


" We are just in the nick of time, Frank,” said 
the father, edging his way through the opposing 
tide of visitors who were hurrying to make their 
exit from the steamer. "I hope your mother and 
sister have had no delay. I trust they have got 
on board.” 

"They are here, father,” said the young man, 
" for there comes their escort, Mr. Sparkler.” 

"How do, Mr. Gilderthleeve !” said Mr. Spark- 
ler, otherwise "Eyeglass Slippers,” as he met 
them. "How do, Frank? Mrs. Gilderthleeve 
and Mi tli Gertwood are awaiting you in the tha- 
loon.” 

Down in the saloon Gertrude Gildersleeve at 
this moment was conversing with a short, stout 
man, whose smooth, beardless face and clerical 
garb proclaimed him to be a churchman. His 
sleek, unctuous countenance was lighted up with 
a pleasant and agreeable smile as he listened to 
Miss Gildersleeve. 

"This is indeed a great surprise, Father Titus,” 
she said, while the priest still held her hand. 
"You are going, then, to Europe with us?” 

"Yes, my child,” returned the priest. "I am 
on my way to Kome for a brief visit, and to pay 
my obeisances to the holy father. We shall have 
an opportunity for many pleasant conferences 
during the voyage, I sincerely trust, my daughter.” 


24 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


"Yes, dear father,” said Gertrude, who, it should 
be said, had been partially educated at a fashion- 
able school in Boston, over which Father Titus 
exercised some supervisory control, " nothing 
could have given me more delight than the benefit 
of thus having the advantage of your counsels. 
For oh l father, there is much that I wish to ask 
you.” 

Poor Gertrude ! She was starving for the 
spiritual bread of life. One look from that priest 
was a benediction to her. 

"You are advancing in grace, I see, my daugh- 
ter ; but I must leave you for the present, as I 
perceive your father and brother are coming this 
way.” 

So saying, the priest departed hurriedly, going 
up on deck, where the last signal is just sounding. 

And now ensues the usual affecting parting 
scenes. Now the last word is said, the last fond 
caress exchanged. The monster ship throbs with 
the moving machinery. Her head slowly turns to 
the . sea. The band strikes up the sadly tender 
strains of " Sweet Home,” changingto "A Life on 
the Ocean Wave,” as, amid the shouts and cheers 
and waving of hats and handkerchiefs from the 
hundreds who lined the pier, the steamer majes- 
tically glides out into the channel. 

A tender had been chartered to accompany us 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON IIILL. 


25 


down the harbor with music and son<^, giving 
cheer upon cheer. But many a heart was too sad 
to respond ; each looking back toward friends 
and homes now receding, perhaps forever, from 
view. 

"I swanny ! ” said Jonathan Jerks to me, as we 
stood leaning against the taffrail, straining our 
eyes to catch the last glimpse of the fast receding 
shores, — " I swanny ! I never felt so bad to leave 
home before in my life.” 

And the honest Yankee brushed away a tear as 
he spoke. 

"Skust how I feels mineself,” said a stout Ger- 
man, shaking his head sorrowfully. "I hash ter 
leave mine vrow Katerina, und der leedle vons ; 
und it make me vot you calls homeshick. Yaw, 
das ish so ! ” 

That night, in my cabin, I found that ocean 
travel subjects one to strange companions. The 
steamer was unusually crowded. Occupying the 
berth over mine was a whiskey trader, from 
Frankfort, Ky., a son of the Emerald Isle. He 
was carrying home samples of his distilled poison 
to introduce to his relatives and acquaintance 
living on the "old sod.” 

In the berths beside the Irishman was a Cuban 
slaveholder, who spent the voyage in drinking 
brandy and decrying America. He and Jerks 


26 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


had many a sharp tilt. There was also a wealthy 
brewer from California. 

Each of these persons had provided himself 
with liquors in boundless profusion. Cases and 
trunks containing whiskey and brandy filled every 
available space. The first business of the night 
was to unload the liquors. Soon glasses were 
clicking, and bottle after bottle was emptied. 
Under the influence of the stimulants, all hands, 
utter strangers a few hours before, were hobnob- 
bing, laughing, and talking like old friends. 

For the first time in my life I had a keg of 
whiskey tied to my bedpost. In fact, I was sur- 
rounded by whiskey. My situation can best be 
described in the words of Tennyson, slightly 
varied : — 

u Whiskey to right of me, 

Whiskey to left of me, 

Whiskey in front of me, 

Enough for six hundred! ” 

I noticed that Jerks withstood all invitations to 
drink, though he mingled in the conversation. 

"I swow!” he whispered to me, with his 
habitual jerk of the head and twitch of the eye, 
"this is what you call high life, I suppose. High 
life with a vengeance I should say. If you will 
take my word for it, neighbor, two thirds of the 
folks on this boat are seasick, and the sicker they 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON IIILL. 


27 


got the more they drink. Just look at these men 
now. The ship heaves, and — so do they. Then 
they take another swig of whiskey, then heave 
ho. again ! ” 

Jerks was a comical genius, full of anecdote 
and story, and made himself at home in any com- 
pany. He was a man of varied information, and 
possessed of such plain common-sense, dashed 
with a vein of homely philosophy, that he was 
seldom worsted in an argument. Generally he 
got the best of it. That jerk of the hand of his 
was an argument in itself. It carried conviction 
*n every gyration. 

As the voyage lengthened, Jonathan became a 
popular personage with all on board. The bonds 
of social restraint are relaxed during a sea-voy- 
age. In cabin and on deck gambling and drink- 
ing were indulged in openly and without stint. 

" l5ook a-here, Mr. Gildersleeve,” said Jerks, 
one day, ''this is another phase of high life, I 
suppose ! They don’t drink and bet money like 
this ’ere in Boston, do they ? ” 

" Well, not quite so publicly, perhaps,” said 
Mr. Gildersleeve, good-humoredly, " but men’s 
passions and appetites are probably the same in 
Boston as they are elsewhere.” 

"But I have alters been told that law and 
decency are better observed and more strictly 


28 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


enforced there than in other cities,” said Jonathan. 
"Now, I’ve been pooty well over the United 
States, and I swan ! I never yet saw any worse 
contempt for the ordinances and decencies of 
respectable society, even on board a Mississippi 
flat-boat, than on this here steamer ! Look 
a-there now ! ” 

The Yankee pointed to a group of three or four 
gentlemen seated at a table in the smoking-room. 
They were playing cards. Little heaps of silver 
and gold before them, told that their sport was 
far from being an innocent one. 

Standing near by, and watching the fluctuations 
of the game with an eager, absorbed interest, was 
young Frank Gildersleeve. 

"Look a-there, now,” continued Jerks. "Just 
see how your son is interested in that game of 
cards. A likely young lad Mr. Frank seems to 
be; honest, good-tempered, and, I should judge, 
high-minded, too ; but ef he was a boy of mine, 
sir, I should hate to see such a temptation as that 
placed often in his way. See how his eyes kindle ! 
See how he bends over them gamblers ! Just as 
ef his very soul was on fire to take a hand in the 
game. I beg pardon, sir, but ef I was you I 
wouldn’t lose no time in giving him a caution 
about ever playin’ a card for money.” 

"No need of asking pardon, friend Jerks ; I 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON HILL. 


29 


take no offence at such well-meant freedom,” said 
Augustus Gildersleeve ; but Jonathan’s words had 
evidently disquieted him. " Frank is above the 
usual temptations of his age. He has always 
money at command, and need never try such a 
foolish and desperate hazard as gambling to till 
his purse.” 

Nevertheless, Mr. Gildersleeve did not fail to 
talk long and earnestly with his only son on the 
subject before they retired that night. 

Jerks saw with equal concern that the young 
man was assailed by another temptation, which he 
felt less free to mention. 

He saw that Mr. Gildersleeve habitually used 
wine and liquors at table, and that Frank was 
never checked or admonished when following his 
father’s example. 

" That boy has got a genuine taste for strong 
drink, I swanny ! ” said Jonathan to himself, shak- 
ing his head and twitching his hand as usual 
when very much in earnest, " and I lose my guess ef 
he don’t succumb to it, unless somebody gives him 
a powerful warnin’. Too bad ! too bad ! I swan, 
I ’m half a mind to speak to the lad myself. It ’s 
no use sayin’ anythin’ to Mr. Gildersleeve. The 
mother, too, is one of them hard, cold, fash’nable 
sort of women. It is plaguy little good, sound, 
motherly counsel young Frank ever gits from her, 
I ’ll guarantee.” 


f 


30 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


" What are you muttering about so earnestly, 
Mr. Jerks? ” said a sweet voice at his elbow. 

Turning, Jonathan perceived the smiling, beau- 
tiful face of Gertrude Gildersleeve. 

She was very young, hardly seventeen, and 
somehow she had taken a great liking to the hon- 
est Yankee. 

Gertrude’s sweet disposition, unspoiled not- 
withstanding the influence and teachings of a 
fashionable mother, had charmed Jerks from the 
first. Between Jonathan and the young heiress, 
therefore, a singular but none the less sincere con- 
fidence had already sprung up. 

"You were saying something about my dear 
brother, Mr. Jerks,” Gertrude went on, in a sport- 
ive tone. "I am sure I heard you mention his 
name in your self-communings.” 

"Well, yes, I must allow you are right, Miss 
Gertrude,” said Jonathan. " I was thinkm’ what - 
a smart, manly young fellow your brother Frank 
was.” 

"Thank you, Mr. Jerks, for praising my dear 
brother. I am very fond of Frank, and like to 
hear him spoken well of.” 

She said the words so gently, and with such a 
tender affection beaming in her dove-like eyes, J 
that Jerks really envied Frank Gildersleeve. 

"I was only regrettin’ one thing about Mr. 
Frank,” Jonathan continued. 

i 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON IIILL. 


31 


" And what is that, dear Mr. Jerks?” 

" That I fear he has got strong passions which 
oughter to have as strong a curb. But I am for- 
gettin’ myself, Miss Gertrude. This isn’t a proper 
subject to bring to a sister’s knowledge.” 

" And why not?” said Gertrude, earnestly, and 
placing her little hand on her companion’s arm. 
* Surely, anything that concerns an only brother’s 
welfare is of deepest interest to a sister. I love 
my brother very dearly, Mr. Jerks ; and no one 
would strive for his good more earnestly and 
prayerfully than myself.” 

"Then I beseech you, my dear young lady,” 
answered Jonathan, with deep feeling, "to warn 
Mr. Frank against what I am afraid is his beset- 
ting sin.” 

" Ah ! you refer to his habit of drinking wine ? ” 

"Yes, Miss Gertrude, your innocent life has 
never exhibited or brought home to you the evils 
of a habit which grows by what it feeds on, until, 
in nine cases out of ten, it leads its poor victim 
to an untimely and an unhonored grave.” 

At moments of strong feeling, Jonathan insen- 
sibly elevated his language, almost entirely drop- 
ping his usual vernacular style. 

" I have never thought of such a thing in con- 
nection with Frank,” said Gertrude. " Though I 
never take wine myself, because perhaps I have a 


32 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


natural distaste for it, yet from childhood I have 
been so familiar to seeing it used before me, that 
I have never associated with it such evils as you 
describe. But oh ! I thank you, Mr. Jerks, more 
than I can express ! I will speak to Frank, and 
urge him with all the power of a sister’s love, to 
give up such a dangerous practice, — but there is 
my mother beckoning to me.” 

And with a sweet, though somewhat sad smile, 
the young girl left him and joined Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve. 

"Gertrude,” said that lady, in severe tones of 
reproof, " I wonder what you can see so attractive 
in that man. I am surprised and mortified beyond 
measure at your conduct. Remember your posi- 
tion and station, my child. The daughter of 
Augustus Gildersleeve associating with a pork 
merchant, or a low, ignorant farmer, or whatever 
he may be ! For shame ! ” 

"But Mr. Jerks is neither low nor ignorant, 
mamma,” said Gertrude, sweetly ; " and besides, 
General Grant was only a tanner, and that dear, 
noble Abraham Lincoln was a canal boatman. 
And you know, dear mamma,” she added with an 
arch look, "that Grandpa Gildersleeve started 
very low down in the social scale.” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve did not deign to make any 
reply to this home thrust ; and, during the re- 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON HILL. 


33 


niainder of the voyage, she forbore to return to 
the subject. 

In due time we arrived in Liverpool. 

" Hullo ! ” said Jerks, as we walked along 
toward our hotel, "what’s this old fellow 
a-doin’ ? ” 

He pointed to an elderly, well-clad man sitting, 
hat in hand, on the sidewalk, while artistically 
chalked in large letters in front of him was the 
word " Adversity.” 

" I swanny ! ” cried Jonathan, " is this the 
way they beg in England? Why, sir, you 
could n’t hire a Yankee to sit there. No, sir ! 
He ’d creep ’round an’ say, ' Help me out o’ this 
’ere poverty ef yer can, but for the land’s sake, 
don’t tell nobody.’” 

Jerks wondered at the people being so accom- 
modating. Jonathan, on asking for a street, 
name of hotel, or where to find a carriage, was 
delighted to find them so obliging. 

" Wal, I swow ! ” said Jerks, fervently, "ef 
they don’t even hold out their hands to welcome a 
fellow to England. Course I ask ’em 'how de 
du?’ an’ 'how’s their folks at home?’ ’cause a 
feller’s got to be civil, you know. Wal, I never 
see such obligin’ set of people.” 

Walking through the poverty-stricken quarter 
of Liverpool, we saw the terrible effects of intern- 
3 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


U 

perance. Nearly every face we met was red and 
blotched, showing signs of constant dissipation. 
Here there were hundreds of people who never 
have a fire, who live mostly on beer and stronger 
drink. 

" Here ’s the strongest kind of a temperance lec- 
tor’, ” said Jonathan. " I swan, ef it ain’t a burnin’ 
shame ter the name of civilization.” 

Here, too, we saw woman’s utter degradation. 
Women, coarse and bold, would go up to the bar 
and cry, "Say, Sal, what’ll ye take?” with all 
the nonchalance of an old toper. 

" Oh, give me some Old Tom gin or whiskey 
straight,” would be the reply, and thereupon they 
would drink to more than beastly excess. 

" By hokey ! ” cried Jerks, " jes’ look a-there.” 

Two bar-maids were disputing in the street, 
calling each other the vilest names. Then squar- 
ing off, man fashion, they struck and clinched till 
their faces were battered and streaming with blood. 

" Great Gosh ! that ’s the first time I ever saw 
women at fisticuffs,” exclaimed Jonathan. "Ef 
that ain’t the worst sight I ever looked on ! By 
gracious, jes’ look at ’em. A regular prize-fight, 
now, ain’t it? ” 

The women kept at it for some time, drawing a 
large crowd around them, among the spectators 
being two or three police officers. 


GILDF. RSLEEVES OF BEACON HILL. 


35 


" Stop ’em ! stop ’em ! ” cried Jonathan, swing- 
ing his hands and jerking his body in his excite- 
ment. Finally a man seized one of the women. 
This was the other’s chance. She sprang, struck, 
yelled, and, woman-like, went in for the last word 
and the last blow. 

"Hullo !” said Jerks, as we went on, pointing 
to a rum-shop across the way, " du you see that 
liquor den over there ? ” 

I nodded. 

"Wal, sir, captain sa}^s that ’ere place is owned 
by the Mayor of Liverpool. By cracky ! How 
a man that ’s got any soul can sell liquor, and a 
magistrate at that, I can’t see,” cried Jonathan. 
"Why, such a man makes half the misery, woe, 
and crime of the world. Jes’ to think of the 
squalid wretchedness, bruised faces, ruined chil- 
dren in this great city brought on by drink. I 
swan ; I wouldn’t have ’em point to me and say, 
' At your door lies this wrong ’ ; no, not for all the 
world ! ” 

From Liverpool we went to London. Among 
other things, Jerks was not well pleased with the 
English Church establishment. 

"We Americans don’t believe in the union of 
church and state,” said Jonathan. "We tried it 
once, you know, tu hum, in New England. The 
State took the sinners into the church to vote. 


36 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


Soon the sinners outnumbered the saints ; then 
turned the saints out of doors, took the churches, 
and have kept them ever since.” 

One Sunday we visited eleven churches in 
London. 

" Great Geewhiliky ! ” said Jerks, as he caught 
sight of the great dome of St. Paul’s. " Wal, I 
swow ! ef that ain’t some punkins, now ! ” 

We entered the vast chancel, and took seats 
with the scanty few within. 

" Guess they hain’t got a very pop’lar preacher, 
by the looks of things,” said Jonathan ; " seems 
like a meetin’-house with the meetin’ left out.” 

Jonathan summed up the result of our various 
visits as follows. Taking out his memorandum- 
book, he said, with a whole battery of jerks and 
grimaces, — 

" Took a list of all those places, jest for curi- 
osity, so ’s to show the folks tu hum, you see. 
Now look a-here, won’t this ’ere sound cur’ous to 
our church-goin’ people,” and Jerks proceeded to 
read from his notes : ''St. Paul’s, largest church 
in England, communion service, twenty-nine per- 
sons, and six priests, to conduct the services. At 
twelve o’clock, sixty-four persons and seventy- 
four paid ministrants at the altar ; twelve of these 
were priests and sixty-two singers. By Jiminy I 
more officers than soldiers. Ef that don’t beat 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON HILL. 


37 


all J At St. Margaret’s, only five persons in the 
congregation. All I could see, ’t any rate ! Per- 
haps rest were asleep. Paid that ’ere woman 
pew-opener sixpence to git a seat. Went against 
the grain, that did. St. Martin’s had only six 
worshippers ; St. Nicholas, seven ; St. Yedest, 
nine ; St. Magdalene, nineteen ; St. James’, 
twenty-two persons in choir, and twenty in pews ; 
St. Anthony’s, two hundred persons. An’ that 
was the largest congregation we saw, except at 
Westminster Abbey, and the eleven-o’clock preach- 
ing service at St. Paul’s. 

" Now that ’s a mighty poor showin’ for piety, 
we’d call it in America,” continued Jonathan. 
" Ef that ’s a fair sample of the eight hundred and 
seventy-two London churches of what they call 
the established faith, I don’t see what in thunder 
they want so many for ! No wonder the congre- 
gation ’s so small ! By Jiminy ! All these ’ere 
churches supported by the state, too 1 Why, 
every man, woman, and child, at that rate, must 
cost upwards of a thousand dollars, jest for a few 
hours of public worship ! I saw in a newspaper 
that the Bishop of London alone got a salary equal 
to the President of the United States. Jest think 
of that, now ! Then that same bishop has charge 
of all these ’ere churches, with the hull caboodle 
of officers. See here ! I tuk it all down in this 


38 


OUTWARD BOUND. 


’ere book of mine. There’s deans, archdeacons, 
prebendaries, canons, minor-canons, priest-vicars, 
rectors, by the hundred, and all drawing big sal- 
aries. What an army of do-nothin’s fed at the 
altar! I tell you what,” Jerks continued, work- 
ing himself up into his usual energetic state, while 
head, eyes, and hand kept motion with his feel- 
ings, — " I tell you what, they ’d oughter clean out 
these saps that ’s eatin’ right into the life of the 
nation. I ’d jest like to turn the crank right on to 
’em, an’ clean ’em out, sir, clean ’em out ! ” 

"Speaking of these churches,” I said, "you 
must admit they are line edifices, and show the 
taste of the people, while at the same time they 
beautify and adorn London.” 

"I’d ruther see the money they cost invested 
in raisin’ up the poor and down-trodden people of 
this ’ere metropolis,” said Jerks, " pullin’ ’em 
out of the mire of beggary and degradation. 
Jest look at George Peabody, the American 
banker, giving two millions to London’s poor. 
Now, ef some of London’s big nabobs would 
follow that man’s lead, you wouldn’t see such 
a thing as I saw in the 'Times ’ on’y yesterday.” 

" What was that, Jonathan? ” 

Jonathan again had recourse to his memoran- 
dum-book. 

" Here it is ; right out of the 'Thunderer ’ itself: 


GILDERSLEEVES OF BEACON HILL. 


39 


'In England there are 350,000 children under the 
age of sixteen dependent on parochial mainte- 
nance. More than 100,000 criminals are annually 
let loose from prison to prey again on society. 
In this vast and wealthy city of London, there 
are over 100,000 boys and girls destitute of guar- 
dianship, destitute of food, clothing, and em- 
ployment ! ’ After that, talk of the magnificent 
churches and public buildings ! Let England 
and the rest of the Old World build monuments. 
I glory in America, because she builds men! 
Look at those same monuments, — look at St. 
Paul’s, where we went to-day, look at West- 
minster Abbey, and the rest of ’em. Why, they 
were most all of ’em built from the hard earnings 
of the poor. Here, I’ve got it all down in this 
’ere book. St. Paul’s was built by a tax on coal. 
The burden always falls on the middle an’ lower 
classes. They have been taxed an’ crushed, to 
build up England’s nobility. 

"I tell you, America’s nobility is her men ; her 
wise, noble, God-fearin’ men. Without them, 
shafts, bronzes, grand buildings, and marble sta- 
tooes, are all a sham and a mockery. Them ’s my 
sentiments publicly expressed, as old Deacon 
Slocum used ter say way up in New Hampshire. 
I’m proud that I ’m an American, an’ I jest glory 
in America. There you won’t find no crushin’ 


40 


OUTWAKD BOUND. 


grindin’ airristocrisy ! No exorbitant rents ! No 
titled nobility ; no privileged class to grasp the 
chief honors ; no sons of birth to crowd out and 
crush down the sons of toil ; no landed monopo- 
lies to rob tenants of their fields an’ turn ’em into 
huntin’ grounds. There every man has a chance, 
an open field, an’ a fair fight ; he has land for his 
feet, a roof for his head, and a prospect for his 
children. I tell you what, sir, for one, I ’ve seen 
enough of London. Let ’s pull up stakes an’ go 
over to France to-morrow.” 

As this proposition coincided with my plans, I 
acceded to Jonathan’s desire. The ensuing day 
we embarked from Dover for Calais. On the boat 
we found our old fellow-travellers, the Gilder- 
sleeves, and, thus once more united, we proceeded 
to Paris. 


CHAPTER II. 


PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? — JERKS, SLIPPERS, 
SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! Then you don’t admire Paris ? ” 

"No, I don't. I prefer Boston,” said I. 

"What! Ha, ha! Prefer Boston to Paris? 
That is strange,” said Mr. Gildersleeve, at our 
Paris hotel. " What are your objections to 
Paris?” 

"I object to its loose manners, its Sunday dese- 
cration, immorality, frivolity, and its disgusting 
street indecencies. Yet you call the Parisians 
the ' Politest people in the world.’ Sir, I have 
seen enough of Paris. I will not spend another 
day nor another dollar in such a vicious city.” 

" Why, Mr. Morgan, you don’t know what you 
are talking about. Boston is more immoral than 
Paris.” 

I shook my head incredulously, and said, "Im- 
possible ! Boston may be wicked, but its wicked- 
ness is not so deep, so black ; it don’t, it can’t 
compare with Paris.” 

"You are mistaken,” said Mr. Gildersleeve, 
emphatically. " Go into the depths, and see as 


42 


PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 


much of Boston as I have seen, and you will 
change your opinion. You ministers know but 
little of what is called 'Life' If we were in 
Boston I could show you a thing or two that 
would open your eyes, — show you that Boston is 
the most corrupt city in the world.” 

"What ! Mr. Gildersleeve,”I exclaimed. "You 
a Boston man, born in Puritan Boston, and your 
father before you. Can you thus denounce your 
native city? In what respect is Boston so cor- 
rupt ? ” 

" In everything, — politics and religion. In 
Puritan cant and hypocrisy. Puritanism teaches 
concealment, — drinking, gaming on the sly, 
crimes innumerable, vices unmentionable, all done 
in the dark. Look at Boston’s police records. 
Look at her dark array of crimes and criminals ! 
Her army of quacks and charlatans.” 

" Then Paris presents better morals ? ” 

"Yes, unquestionably. Here, men need not 
conceal, the unfortunate need not be under a 
ban.” 

I replied, "In other words, then, Boston seeks 
to repress vice and crime by making it odious, 
while Paris encourages vice and crime by open 
license. Look at some of her palaces, monuments 
to king’s mistresses, built to commemorate female 
depravity. Look at her art galleries, where the 


JERKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 43 

sensual school predominates. Look at her the- 
atres, devoted to vile plays and viler operas. 
Look at her modern literature, in which vice is 
crowned with laurels. Look at her Sunday amuse- 
ments, her Sunday horse-races. And yet, in the 
face of these facts, you call Paris a moral and 
perhaps a temperate city.” 

"Certainly, sir.” 

" Why, sir, the Parisians drink a hundred mill- 
ion gallons of wine yearly, fifty gallons to each 
person, that is a gallon a week to each man, 
woman, and child ! To say nothing of the strong 
drinks, absinthe, rum, gin, whiskey, and the cus- 
tom of mixing brandy with their coffee. Then 
look at her long list of suicides ; look at her 
Morgue. As the proverb goes, 'You can’t drag 
the Seine without fishing up a man.’ ” 

"And you can’t drag Charles River without 
fishing up a woman ! ” said Mr. Gildersleeve, 
emphatically. "I tell you, Bostonians don’t know 
Boston’s darker side ; you don’t understand Paris. 
Parisian society is sensible, philosophical. It is 
charitable toward human frailties. It does not 
attempt to gloss over such social crimes and weak- 
nesses as are inseparable from human nature. It 
se^s and recognizes their necessity. Thus in 
Paris men and women are frank even in their 
vices. They are not compelled to hide or conceal 


44 


PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH ? 


every peccadillo. In Boston you must cover up 
your shortcomings, play a part, wear a mask, 
assume a virtue if you have it not.” 

"Why, you don’t claim that open transgression, 
barefaced license, are helps to public morals? ” 

* "Yes, sir, I do. Men’s passions are like a 
mill-stream. When you repress them they revolt. 
The higher you build the dam, the more powerful 
the resistance and more furious the escaping 
current.” 

" Then you might as well banish all laws, even 
against thieves and robbers. According to your 
doctrine, the more laws against stealing the more 
men will steal. The more guards against bank 
robbery the more banks will be robbed.” 

" I don’t say that ! I speak not of thieves or 
thieving, but only of the Social Evil.” 

"Well, then, the Social Evil. They have 
licensed this in some American cities. But license 
has proved a failure ; it only increased the abomi- 
nation.” 

"Ah ! They didn’t give it a fair trial, a fair 
show.” 

"Yes, they did. They showed that the evi 
nearly doubled while sanctioned by law. It took 
on a bolder face, even assumed the garb of re- 
spectability. You say, don’t dam the stream. We 
say, diy it up altogether ; stop the fountains I ” 


JERKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 45 

"Then why don’t you dry up the stream in Bos- 
ton?” 

"Because of just such men as you ! You repre- 
sent, or rather misrepresent, the wealth and cul- 
ture of Boston. When you, and such as you, 
strike for temperance, then intemperance will be 
banished. When the upper classes frown down 
the sin of incontinence, then social law and 
morals will be strengthened. Let them set the 
seal of their disapprobation on fashionable sins ; 
let them practise self-sacrifice, self-denial, mortify 
the lusts of the fiesh, denounce by precept and 
example Boston’s vice, and vice will disappear.” 

"Ha! ha! ha! Then you expect me to make 
a martyr of myself for my fellow-men, eh? I tell 
you, no man has a right to say what I shall eat 
or what I shall drink ! ” 

"No, so long as your habits do not affect your 
fellows, so long as your position does not place 
you above other men. But when you become a 
leader, claim to be an exemplar, then public 
opinion, next to the Almighty, has a right to pen- 
etrate your very thoughts, the secrets of your 
bedchamber, hold you to account for every act ; 
what you eat, what you drink, what you wear, 
and all your incomings and outgoings, all that 
tells upon the morals of society.” 

" Ah, ha ! you would make me a perfect man,— 


46 PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 

an anchorite, a plain liver, a teetotaller, a church- 
goer, and, in fact, a sort of sacrificial offering. 
Ha, ha ! I should he too good for earth ! ” 

"Yes, sir. I would have you temperate for 
yourself, your family, your son, and for an ex- 
ample to your neighbors. No man liveth unto 
himself. The higher his social position the greater 
his accountability to God and men. Those Puri- 
tans you sneer at were your fathers, — self- 
denying, God-fearing. They planted seeds for 
the freest, grandest, most intelligent nation on 
earth. Yet you, pampered in wealth, despise 
these men, ridicule their faith, and contemn the 
city of your birth ! Still you call yourself 
American, Republican, ex-ofScial of Boston ! 
Heaven preserve us ! Is it possible that Ameri- 
cans like you can play toady to foreign rank, 
power, and fashion ; spend thousands upon thou- 
sands wrung from the hearts’ blood of poor 
tenants and poorer mill-hands, spend it abroad in 
aping defunct counts, dissolute nobles, and de- 
throned royalty ! Then, worse still, to condemn, 
to sneer at and deride the city that gave you 
birth ! ” 

" But, sir, you don’t understand me. I do not 
sneer at Boston I only condemn her hypocrisy.” 

"Well, be that as it may, if Boston is as bad as 
you say, I declare I will know it in less than two 


JERKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY IIORSE-RACE. 47 

months. I had started for a voyage round the 
world ; started for a year’s recreation. But I now 
give up all thoughts of pleasure. Will turn my 
back oil all enjoyments. I will heed only this 
call of duty. I will go back to Boston, spend all 
I am worth, if need be, in ferreting out Boston’s 
sins. I will employ men to penetrate and expose 
every dark nook and corner, lane, and by-way. I 
will turn Boston Inside Out like a garment. If 
your portrayal be true, then I am needed in 
Boston to help redeem her from shame. If not 
true, then the world shall know who are her 
detractors.” 

With this I parted from Mr. Augustus Gilder- 
sleeve. I had gone abroad for my health ; had 
visited London and Liverpool. Finally I decided 
to go to France, and study the various phases of 
life in the French capital. Like most travellers, 
I was astonished at the magnitude of Paris. I 
looked with wonder on its stupendous public 
works, its magnificent buildings ; admired its 
splendid trophies of art, which meet the gaze on 
every hand. I paid homage to the wonderful 
spirit and genius of a people who, stricken and 
impoverished by a wasting war, had yet sprung 
as one man to the patriotic duty of removing the 
traces of the conflict, and restoring their beautiful 
capital to its former glory. 


48 PATHS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 

On the ruins of a despotism that had crushed 
them to the earth, that had ground their very 
souls as well as their bodies under its iron heel, 
this same people had erected a stable and consis- 
tent government. As a citizen of one great 
republic, I could not but take pride in viewing 
the success of this the most recent experiment in 
popular government. But I witnessed the lux- 
urious prodigality seen on every side, with dif- 
ferent feelings. I could not observe the heartless 
gayety and soulless frivolity which distinguish 
the social atmosphere of Paris without severe 
condemnation. My very soul sickened at the 
open sin and profligacy ; at the affected observ- 
ance of religious forms, and the actual irreverence 
for everything sacred ; the gross and shameless 
indecency which makes the streets of Paris a 
horror and an offence to a modest eye ; the false 
show and glitter which cover no end of social 
corruption, and the sham sentiment which oivcs 
more pity to the condemned criminal on his Vay 
to the galleys, than to the suffering and starving 
outcast who begs for bread in her public thorough- 
fares. 

On my first Sunday in Paris, I awoke with the 
sounds of b-u-z-z , b-u-z-z , b-u-z-z in my ears. 
What is it? b[ot the chimes of Sabbath bells, 
but sounds of business and pleasure. The clang, 


JERKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 49 


clang, clang of the hammer, whirring of ma- 
chinery, whistling of engines. Is this Sunday? 

How about the churches? I visited the most 
noted ones in Paris, the Madelaine, Notre Dame, 
St. Vincent de Paul. The crowds were not large. 
Many of them were strangers gazing upon the 
walls, more intent on the works of art than devo- 
tion ; upon gildings, frescos, grand altars, vases, 
groups of statuary. In Notre Dame are the 
sacred relics ; the thorn from the Saviour’s crown ; 
the coronation relics of Napoleon ; the iron crown 
he placed upon his head in defiance of priest or 
pope. In the church of the Invalides may be 
seen the red marble tomb of Napoleon, the thou- 
sand tattered and faded battle-flags hung from the 
roof ; bas-reliefs, busts and statues of statesmen, 
saints, and generals. These attract the eye, but 
distract from the worship. 

I visited the church of the English Ambassador, 
Lord Lyons, in Paris. Would the Prince of 
Wales be there? No; his cousin, King George 
of Hanover, had just died. This gave the Prince 
an excuse to keep away from church, but not 
from the horse-race. 

From the churches I went to the Exposition. 
There I found the machinery in full blast in every 
department except the American and English. 
The American Corliss engine was moving, but it 
4 


50 


PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 


was under control of a Paris firm. Mr. Corliss 
said, in Philadelphia : 

" If the Centennial Exhibition opens on Sunday 
my engine shall be taken out.” In Paris he had 
no such power; the spindles and looms were in 
full play ; there was the busy hum of traffic from 
various nations, — Belgium, Holland, Germany, 
Austria, Egypt, Barbary ; yet the American and 
English quarters were silent. Carriages, tables, 
goods, utensils, were all covered; sentinel say- 
ing, "No exhibition on Sunday.” I was proud 
of England and of America, proud to see the Sab- 
bath respected. But while England as a nation 
honored the Sabbath, her crown Prince was at the 
horse-race in Paris, and her royal family travelling 
in Scotland. 

I honor the Sabbath Alliance of Scotland, which 
protested against the Queen’s travelling. I honor 
the boatman that refused to ferry the royal party 
across Loch Maree. I honor the innkeeper of 
Achnasheen, who would not allow his horses to 
carry the Queen’s letters on the Lord’s day. But 
I detest the royalty that breaks the laws ; I abhor 
any privileged class that shall use their privileges 
to corrupt society, be they king, prince, bishop, 
priest, or peer. 

Coming out of the Exposition I saw throngs 
moving toward Long champs, the race-course of 


JERKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 51 

Paris. The Bois de Boulogne was filled. The 
newspapers said there were half a million of 
people. It was the great race of the year. Its 
greatest patron was President MacMahon, son of 
the church, with his bigoted wife, a Catholic. 
Their appearance, however, elicited but little en- 
thusiasm. But when the Shah of Persia came in 
his royal robes the crowds applauded. Perhaps 
France was to teach him refined civilization and 
Christianity by introducing him to a Sunday 
horse-race ! 

Within the gates were stands for the pool- 
sellers. Here I saw excited men and women 
staking money on the races ; among whom was 
ex-Queen Isabella, of Spain, who was said to be 
one of the heaviest betters present. She was 
expelled from Spain for licentious practices. Paris 
was her natural retreat. But to-day she is again 
dominant at the Spanish court and in the church. 

The horse that won the grand prize was raised 
in England. Both princes and horses are reared 
in England. But they have to go to Paris for 
their Sunday racing ! This was my first horse- 
race. I did not enter the grounds, but saw 
enough through the gates to sicken me of Euro- 
pean life, its fashions and its follies. 

Returning from the races the way was blocked 
at the Arch of Triumph where the great streets 


52 


PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 


radiate ; and looking down the Champs Elysees, 
the finest avenue in Paris, I saw thousands of 
carriages driving six deep, three on each side, 
extending mile upon mile. 

It took half an hour for our omnibus to cross 
the street. Many carriages were occupied by 
Americans, — the lions of the day, — merchant- 
princes, generals, American Bonanza men, petro- 
leum men, shoddy men, quack-medicine advertisers, 
imitating effete nobility in their lavish display. 

After the race, instead of religious services as 
in America on Sunday evening, the Sabbath 
wound up with theatres, operas, ballet-dancing, 
open-air concerts, all patronized by government, 
and extending till midnight. Such is life in Paris. 
Americans spend millions abroad year after year 
to encourage such life as this ! 

On the Champs Elysees I met Jonathan Jerks. 

"Wal, now, sir, I lost you in the crowd, but 
well met again. By jiminy ! You ’d jest be 
astonished at the number of Americans I ’ve run 
against out here in what they call the Shamps 
Ellises . Queer names they du have for places 
here in Paris ! Boston ’s turnin’ out pooty numer- 
ous at this ’ere Exposition. Every t’ other man 
you meet hails from the ' Hub of the Univarse.’ 
I declare, now, ef here hain’t another on ’em! 
Slippers, by gracious ! ” 


JEKKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 53 

" Slippers” was sauntering towards us, cane 
under his arm, eye-glass to his eye, and with an 
air of the most complete contentment and satisfac- 
tion. 

w Hullo!” said Jerks. "How du you du? 
How du you like Paris ? ” 

" Aw ! charmant ! charmant ! There ith noth- 
ing in the whole world like la belle Paree! 
Everything ith tho thuperb ! tho magnifique ! ” 

" MagnifeekI ” said Jerks, imitating him. 
"Wal, yes, I should say so ! You may like it! 
But give me America ! Give me Yankeedoodle- 
dom afore all the world, I say ! ” 

" But America hath no architecture, no thtatuary, 
no thculpture.” 

"No, we don’t think much of stone men nor 
stone women. We in America believe in live 
animals, — live stock. The dead stock we send 
abroad,” looking significantly at Slippers. 

" Slippers ” stroked his silky mustache with an 
air of great disdain. 

" Aw, don’t speak of America ! How can you 
mention that vulgaw country in the thame bweath 
with Francaise and Paree ! ” 

" Wal, Paris is some punkins, I allow,” said 
Jerks. " She is a handsome city, an’ no mis- 
take.” 

" Yeth, only look at her chawming thenes, 


54 PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 

thplendid boulevardth , aw, and her gorgeouth 
palatheth ! ” 

"Palaces! Yes, an’ they’ve got a pecooliar 
history, most of ’em, so I ’m told. Built for kings’ 
favorites, — ahem, — of the feminine persuasion, 
— a good many of ’em, eh ? ” 

" Ah ! people in Paree doot thothiety never 
trouble themthelfth about thuch inquirieth.” 

"Oh, they don’t, eh? Wal, now, I didn’t 
know that,” said Jerks, whimsically. 

" Excuth me, but I am afraid you are not famil- 
iar, aw, with doot thothiety. Doot thothiety hath 
to wink at a good many little irregularitieth.” 

"Wink at ’em, eh? Just so. Swallow ’em 
whole, I should say, without comment, as the alli- 
gator did to the little picaninny. How about the 
Paris demi-monde ? You don’t wink at them, I 
take it. And the paintings of them ’ere women in 
the Louvre. Those are enough to make any 
decent man wink from very shame ! ” 

"Ha, ha ! You don’t understand. That is high 
art.” 

"Du tell! Wal, for a Boston man, you’ve 
got the queerest notions on morals that I ever 
heard tell on.” 

"Moralth ! Ha ! ha ! I thee, tliir, that you ’ve 
got the ordinary rural idea of Bothton, — aw. 
You think that Bothton ith thtill the thity of the 


JERKS, SLIPPERS, SUNDAY HORSE-RACE. 55 

Puritanth. A mithtaken idea, I athure you. 
Bothton ith one of the wickedetht platheth in the 
world. Ha ! ha ! I could convintli you that 
Paree ith nothing to Bothton. Aw ! I am dith- 
guthted with the verwy name ! ” 

There it was again ! The same idea that Mr. 
Gildersleeve had advanced. As the exquisite left 
us, I turned to Jerks, and said reflectively, — 

" How singular that a man of sense and a sim- 
pleton can agree in their opinions ! ” 

"Hell? What d’ ye mean, sir?” 

" Why, Mr. Gildersleeve has been trying to 
convince me that Boston is a perfect Sodom and 
Gomorrah of wickedness, and now this jackanapes 
offers to do likewise.” 

" Haw ! haw ! haw ! ” laughed Jerks. " Don’t 
believe a word of it, sir.” 

"But their words have given my thoughts a 
new turn. Jonathan, I’ve determined to cut 
short my pleasure-trip. I am going home.” 

"Jerusalem! Wal, the very name of home 
sets my heart a thumpin’. Air you really in ear- 
nest, now? ” 

"Never more so in my life. I am going home 
to see if Boston is so vile, so wicked. I will do 
my part to redeem Boston’s good name.” 

"By hokey ! I’d jest like ter go with you, 
sir. I ’ve been ter Boston a few times myself, 


56 PARIS OR BOSTON, WHICH? 

an’ I never saw nothin’ so very bad about her. I 
remember, though, the fust time I came down, 
some sharpers tried ter pick me up for a flat an’ 
greenhorn. But I had my eye-teeth cut early, 
you see, so they missed their little game. Come, 
now, sir, I ’d like mightily ter hire out ter you 
an’ take a hand in this ’ere job.” 

"You are just the man I want, Jonathan,” I 
replied. 

" All right, sir, I ’ve got ter make a little trip 
up ter New Hampsheer for a week or so, ter ’tend 
ter a little matter of business,” — Jonathan was 
thinking of Gaddy Glibbins and the present he 
had for her, — " then I ’m ready ter go in with 
you, squire, heart and hand, in the work of turnin’ 
the crank on to Boston.” 

And Jonathan worked his elbow as if he was 
turning an enormous crank which would grind 
Boston’s sins and evil-doers into particles. 

The next day we embarked for America. 


CHAPTEK III. 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. — DARK REVELA- 
TIONS OF CRIME. 

AVhen my troubles were thickest, being sued for 
$10,000, the papers refusing to report my lectures, 
and Music Hall having been closed against me, I 
gave a lecture, most of which is the following : — 

Once more on golden hinges turning, Boston 
Music Hall is open ! Open to Henry Morgan ! 
(Applause.) Once more my lips are free to de- 
nounce Boston’s sins. Once more my voice is 
heard. Ay, and heard while my prosecutors are 
in jail ! (Tremendous applause.) 

I came home from Europe abhorring Parisian 
life and Paris sins. But alas ! I have found a 
second edition of Paris in Boston. I have opened 
in Boston the modern box of Pandora. A thou- 
sand evils have sprung out ! I dug too deep ! 
Opening sewers is not healthful. (Laughter.) 
You have to drop the lid down quickly, or some- 
body will get sick. I got sick myself ; the evils 


58 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 


struck in ; not only sick, but terribly mortified at 
the state of things. I have had a glimpse of Tophet 
on earth. 

I hold in my hand documents that would set all 
Boston in consternation ; start a skeleton in a hun- 
dred households. But with my consent they shall 
never see the light. I hold them merely as a 
warning for the ungodly to sin no more. 

I have probed Boston’s iniquities to its depths : 
its dance halls, its dances of death, clairvoyants, 
mesmerists, pre-natal murderers, crimes of self- 
destruction, and " Busy Bees,” where "Led Astray” 
is acted to the life at $3 admission. 

The time was when crimes were not winked 
at in Boston as they are to-day. When Major 
Jones and Captain Boynton were at the head 
of the State police, they meant business. Then 
gambling was checked. Then the crow-bar and 
axe were used to force the doors ; the timer’s 
den was invaded ; their trophies were many. 
From four to six bushels of ivory chips were 
seized, tables, banks, and all the paraphernalia con- 
fiscated and destroyed. Unlawful gaming was so 
much interfered with that $40,000 were offered to 
Capt. Boynton if he would desist from prosecuting 
the gamblers. 

Now the head of the reform police has chosen 
the biggest gambler in Boston to be his associate, 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME. 


59 


to run his horses and manage his trotting-park. 
How such a reformer would look in arresting giant 
gamblers ! A little puppy dog attacking a lion ! 
Before the Legislature I asked that man to resign ! 
He did resign; hut how are we bettered? We 
have a corrupt police commission responsible to 
nobody. Neither to City Hall nor the State 
House. 

Yet there are some fruits of my efforts. Victims 
have been rescued, and gamblers compelled to dis- 
gorge. I give instances. 

A man high in spiritual circles said he had be- 
come intoxicated and lost all he had at a noted 
gambling-house, one of those which I had ex- 
posed. 

He asked, " What can I do ? 

I said, " Demand your money back or sue them.” 
I gave him the names of all the gamblers of that 
house ; he showed them his facts, threatened suit, 
and got part of his money back without cost and 
without being exposed. 

One man told me he had been enticed by wines 
and free dinners to risk small sums until at last he 
lost all his father gave him to set him up in busi- 
ness, some $10,000. I encouraged him to issue 
suit, and considerable of the property was recov- 
ered, without the cost of trial. 

A father said to me, " My son has gambled away 


60 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 


his all, unbeknown to me ; I had not the first suspi- 
cion that he was ever in a gambling den in his life. 
When I found that he had not only spent his 
money, but had also pawned his wife’s jewelry, 
worth $600, and gambled that away, then, sir, I 
became so enraged that I seized him by the throat, 
hurled him to the ground, and threatened to choke 
him to death if he did not reveal every gambling 
place, and every gambler, where he had staked 
and lost. It was a severe remedy. In fact I was 
crazed, actually beside myself, and often have 
repented of it since, but it cured the boy. He 
led me to every man, and every place, and made 
the most of them refund. And, oh, sir ! if I do 
say it, a better son than he is to-day does not live ! ” 
tears streaming down his face as he spoke, and 
his voice tremulous with emotion. That man got 
the names of gamblers from my list and sued 
the most obstinate of them, and recovered the 
money. 

Some were not so lucky. A young woman of 
culture and refinement, marrying the son of a 
clergyman, and seeing her husband ruined, sat for 
hours on the stairs of a den on Elm Street, to 
prevent him from entering. She was driven to 
desperation, and resorted to this public demonstra- 
tion as her only hope. She at last prevailed, won 
him back to his home and to his child, but his 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME 


61 


fortune was not recovered. She came to me, 
wrote down a list of all the leading gamblers, in- 
cluding her husband, and asked me to invoke the 
law. The husband became alarmed, begged me 
not to have his name appear, and promised to re- 
form. 

A soldier’s wife from Maine found herself in 
the street without a crust, a few days after coming 
to Boston. The husband had drawn his pension 
money, and spent every cent of it in gambling. 
I gave her a few dollars, then appealed to the 
police, but could get no redress. 

A young man belonging to the most popular 
church of the city told me his woes. He had bor- 
rowed goods, and pawned them to gamble with ; 
when the time came to redeem them he had no 
money. I gave him money for temporary relief, 
but his doom was not far distant, and he found no 
mercy. 

A clerk in the Tremont House had gambled in 
Montgomery Place and lost $1,200. Part of this 
he had taken from the till. He must restore it or 
be ruined. He asked the rich gambler to lend 
him $100, just $100 only; he would pay interest 
and principal, and never make complaint. But 
the Faro King, with sleek face and sardonic grin, 
coolly bowed him out of tilt', house. The Tremont 
House and Revere House were under the same 
partnership. 


62 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 


The clerk was ordered to carry $300 to the Re- 
vere House. On his way he passed David Blan- 
chard’s faro bank. He thought, "Now if I could 
only win $100, 1 could cover my tracks till my sal- 
ary comes due, and save my reputation and my 
place.” He looked at the money, hesitated, par- 
leyed with his conscience, and at last went in. He 
lost $10, $20, and at last $100. He could not now 
appear at the Revere House with part of the 
$300 ; he must win the $100 back or lose all ; so 
he ventured, and lost the whole $300. 

He went back to the Tremont House, fell upon 
his knees, said, " Bear with me ; forgive me this 
time. I will pay you every cent. I will live on 
a single meal ; work my fingers to the bone ; be 
faithful and true to you ; receive not a cent till all 
is paid.” But while pleading, he saw the officer 
coming, and knew his doom was at hand. 

He asked permission to step into the next room, 
just for a moment only, to change his coat ; there 
seizing a pistol, he shot himself dead. 

Another case : A young man said to his wife, 
" Mary, I am not fit to live ; I wish to die.” 

"Don’t feel so sad,” said the devoted wife. 
"You would not leave me and the children ; you 
must live but for their sake.” 

" No, no ! I am not fit to live. I am but a dis- 
grace to you and to them.” 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME. 


63 


" Don’t talk so,” she said, in soothing tones. 
" What have you done r” 

" I hardly dare tell you what I have done. I 
have spent the $18,000 my mother left me a few 
months ago, in gambling.” 

" But 3^011 have your hands and your health ; } r ou 
can earn more ; don’t take on so.” And she strove 
to cheer him up by kind caresses, with more than 
a wife’s affection and endearment. 

At last he broke out, " Oh, Mary ! it will break 
3 r our heart if I tell you all ! This house is gone ; 
the furniture is gone ! All you have on earth, all 
your mother’s gifts, are mortgaged to the pawn- 
broker ! I brought him in when you was away, 
and sold them all ! ” 

Then, for the first time, that wife yielded to 
paroxysms of grief. " What ! ” she exclaimed. 
" The dearest mementos of my mother ! Every 
couch, chair, and table ! Even the children’s 
toys ! All gone to the faro bank ! ” And she 
cried and sobbed aloud ! 

The husband, seeing her anguish, became so 
mortified and chagrined that he seized a pistol and 
shot himself dead on the spot. 

All these instances occurred within a few months 
of each other, and scores of others equally heart- 
rending: mig:ht be related. Yet I am condemned 
for revealing them to the public, and for sounding 


64 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 


alarm ! Oh, Boston ! Boston ! Has it come to 
this ? Oh, Shame ! Shame ! where is thy blush ! 

Now for the policy shops. These are in full 
blast under the shadow of the police station, and 
some policemen are among their chief patrons. 
There is a policy shop in District IV., and a 
patrolman is said to have staked his money and 
won largely. My agent visited the shop on 
Washington Street; it is in a back room, up one 
flight, approached through a dark alley; No 
lock or bolt debars the entrance. The business 
is conducted as openly as if sanctioned by city 
authority. In a corner was a table, and behind it 
the agent gathered in the spoils. There were 
fifteen persons present, the majority of them poor ; 
many black, and all talking of the three chances out 
of seventy-eight. Hush ! a messenger arrives with 
a despatch from Exchange Avenue. All eyes are 
strained. Alas ! no luck for any in that crowd. 
Crestfallen they retire. This was twelve o’clock, 
and there was another drawing at five. One is be- 
hind a barber’s shop. The sign reads, " Shaving 
done here,” and I bet it is. One is on Leverett 
Street, and there are two more on Cambridge 

O 

Street, one of them run by a colored man of mil- 
itary experience. There were present at the last- 
mentioned place nineteen colored men, two women, 
and one white man. The negroes’ propensity for 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME. 


65 


gambling finds full play in Boston, three fourths 
of the above parties being colored. Some of 
them were war-scarred ; many had fought bravely 
for the bird of freedom, but they all fall like 
cowards before the claws of the tioer. 

O 

The King of Policy has 23 agencies in Boston, 
with two or three clerks at each, called " writers.” 
They are paid 15 or 20 per cent. I have dared 
the police again and again to arrest that man. 
He might reveal too much for their comfort. He 
boasts that he has the heads of the police at his 
back, and never has been molested. But let 
another man set up the business, he is hurried off 
to jail forthwith, no competition being allowed. 
He is in receipt of $200 and $300 a day, and 
policemen are his best friends. 

A tenant of mine lost $1,000 or more at his 
shops, borrowing wherever he could get a dollar, 
and pawning, at last, his wife’s furniture. In his 
distress he went to the Policy King, plead and 
wept, but got nothing back. 

He then placed his case in the hands of a detec- 
tive, demanding $500. No one knows how much 
the king gave the detective to let him off easy. 
It was settled for $100, the detective taking $20 
out of the $100, besides having a salary from the 
State. Glorious are the fruits of a detective ! 
He bleeds both parties, having his bread buttered 
on three sides. 


66 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 


Of the 7,600 deaths in Boston last year, 3,000 
were caused by dissipation and vice. Think of it ! 
3,000 prematurely dead; 2,000 by licentiousness 
alone ! Think of it ! 2,000 victims in one year 
reeling to the grave ! 2,000 marked and branded 
for the sacrifice ! 2,000 of the young, the fair, the 
beautiful ; once the fond hope of loving parents, 
ornaments of home, pride of the family circle. 
What an army of sin ! Merciful heaven ! Can it 
be that so many die in Boston for want of warn- 
ing, die without hope, when one half of the 
destruction might be prevented by strict enforce- 
ment of the law? Can Boston stand this drain? 
Can she afford this constant loss of vitality ? Can 
Boston’s salaried officials waste her resources ? 
Can they drink and game and trifle when so much 
is at stake ? Have they no better example to set ? 
No respect for human life? No fear of God? Will 
they spend Boston’s nine millions of taxes only 
to encourage dissipation and crime ? Forbid it, 
heaven ! 

Neither pulpit, press, nor police is awake to 
its duty. Neither sounds the note of alarm. 
The press is content to give the news ; the voice of 
the pulpit is weak, and does not reach one quarter 
of the people. Who, then, shall warn young men? 
Every watchman should be a minister of warning, 
and cry, " Thus saith the law ! ” Now, how is law 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME. 


67 


enforced in Boston? I hold in ray hand the Police 
Commissioners’ Report for last year. It is a fraud, 
— a blind! The report says: "There are one 
hundred and one places where it is suspected that 
liquor is sold in a small way without a license.” 
What ! only one hundred and one ? Why there 
are over 1,000 unlicensed drinking-places in Bos- 
ton ! There are more than one hundred in Ward 
XVI. alone, forty within a few rods of each other; 
seventeen in one street ; to say nothing of the 
houses of ill fame. How about gambling-houses ? 
How many of these places are only suspected? 
On that head the report is silent. Yet there are a 
hundred gambling-places in Boston running night 
and day. The gambling mania has become an 
epidemic. For fifty years the laws against lotteries 
have been enforced ; not a Boston paper dared 
publish their advertisements. To-day lotteries 
are openly advertised, and thousands of dollars 
monthly go through the Boston post-office to Ken- 
tucky and Xew Orleans. 

Now for the hidden crimes that are hourly 
brought to light. Unburied victims are swept up 
by nearly every tide, rising from the river like 
accusing ghosts, demanding vengeance on the 
heads of their destroyers. Boston’s Sabbath bells 
never toll without striking the knell of some un- 
buried, murdered victim. Who are these un- 


68 LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 

claimed dead? Ask the mournful waves of the 
harbor ! Ask the dark waters of the Back Bay ! 
Ask the woods and the fields ! Ask the houses of 
mystery, whose doors open only to the magic touch 
of gold ! Ask the hundred so-called doctors, male 
and female, borrowing honored titles to cover 
deeds of darkness and blood ! 

Look at that unknown victim floating in the 
Back Bay ! Look at that ghastly, mutilated corpse 
thrown from Lynn bridge, which has been the hor- 
ror and mystery of two cities. See the weeping 
and wailing of relatives and friends ! Hear the 
indignant murmurs of an outraged community. 
See that wife, discovered by her heart-broken hus- 
band in a Court Street den. She clings to him, 
and cries, " Oh ! forgive me ! Pardon me, my 
husband ! I have done wrong ! ” and dies in his 
arms, the victim of malpractice. See that young 
girl in the hands of a notorious quack on Harrison 
Avenue. Child of wealth and affluence, tempted, 
betrayed, and deserted, she flies in desperation 
to an unhallowed sanctuary, yields to the em- 
piric’s deadly art. In dying agony, she prays that 
her mother may be called. "Oh, mother ! mother ! 
I’m lost! I’m lost!” She pours into that fond 
mother’s bosom the story of her sin and shame. 
So swells the record of Boston’s hidden crimes. 
Hundreds of such tragedies of yearly occurrence 

i 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME. 69 

that never reach the ear of the police or meet the 
eye in public print. Who of all these twofold 
murderers have ever been tried in Boston, save 
two, — Madam Goodrich, the murderer of Jennie 
Clark, and the Dearborn woman on Court Street? 
She could not get bail, so she was sentenced seven 
years to prison. Those getting bail, — they can 
escape. Oh ! ye pre-natal murderers ! Thank 
your stars that ye have money and friends ! Ye 
still live ! walk the streets with an unblushing 
front ; still preach and practise free love ! while 
your victims die in shame, without even a Chris- 
tian burial. Yet the police report but one case in 
1877, and only nine cases in 1878, when 900 cases 
would be nearer the mark. So much for crime in 
Boston. So will it ever be while district attorneys 
have plenary power to quash and annul at will. 

The police are not wholly to blame for the non- 
execution of the law. They arrest, but the district 
attorney discharges. One policeman states he has 
arrested over forty persons. Not one out of ten 
came to trial. 

In Suffolk County, in one year, there were 1,667 
liquor cases. Out of these only fourteen person 
were convicted ; tive hundred and two were nolle 
pros'd, and 1,136 laid on file, never to be called 
up again ! 

What use for police to arrest when nobody is 
convicted ? What use for philanthropists to labor, 


70 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 


spend time and money, when one man, by the 
stroke of his pen, can override judge, jury, law, 
and justice ? 

Why not dispense with judge and jury ? Why 
pay hundreds of dollars a day for mockeries ? Let 
the attorney or the attorney’s clerk do the work. 
Call him king, emperor, dictator, or what you 
please. No need of constitutions, legislatures, or 
laws. He is a law unto himself. Let all men 
bow. The crier would then open the court in this 
way: "Oyez! Oyez ! Oyez ! All persons having 
any business before this honorable court will iioav 
draw near and give attention. It is hereby de- 
clared that all cases coming before this court shall 
be settled by the attorney’s clerk, nolens volens. 
He shall have power to nolle pros., lay on file, 
pigeon-hole, kill, or bury ; and that judge, jury, 
lawyers, witnesses, and constables be dismissed as 
useless appendages. Fiat justitia, ruat clceum! 
God save the Commonwealth ! ” 

No wonder crime is rampant, rogues are bold, 
law defied ; no wonder grim murder stalks through 
the land. Three murderers handed in New En«-- 
land in one day ! 

Can Boston be redeemed? I had a dream 
which was not all a dream. I saw Boston petrified 
like the valley of dry bones which Ezekiel saw 
Petrified by sin ! Hush ! Hark ! The enchanter’s 
wand has waved over the city. Touched the in- 


DARK REVELATIONS OF CRIME. 


71 


habitants. They are held in magic spell. In 
their icy coldness let me photograph and weigh 
them. All stand in the place, attitude and posture 
in which the spell smote them. All are hushed, 
breathless, death-like, silent. There the de- 
bauchee, with cup at his lips. There the gambler 
at his cards. There the burglar, with keys and 
lantern in hand. There the midnight assassin, 
with knife upraised. 

Now judgment falls. They are weighed, and 
the scene changes ! Here is the actor at the 
crowded theatre The audience, with hands ex- 
tended to applaud ! Here the judge on the bench ; 
culprit at the bar ; jury in the box. Here the 
preacher in his pulpit and his flock in the pews, — 
all cold, motionless, frozen as marble. Morally, 
this is Boston. There is no breath, no life in her. 
A^ain the scene changes ! Ezekiel saw bone come 
to bone, and flesh and beauty cover them. There 
stands the maiden at her toilet ; the student at his 
books ; the professor before his class. Yet there 
is " no breath in them.” This, too, in Boston. 

Oh ! Boston ! Boston ! Thou art weighed and 
found wanting. There is "no breath in thee.’’ 
Eyes that see not ! Ears that hear not ! Hearts 
that beat not ! " Prophesy ! ” Can these bones 
live? Hark! From the court, the prisons, and 
the tombs comes the wail, "No breath in them !” 
Hark ! The waves of ocean rolling up from 


72 


LECTURE IN BOSTON MUSIC IIALL. 


Plymouth Kock, crying, "No breath in them ! ” 
Hark ! From Copp's Hill, the graves of the Puri- 
tan fathers, the Wilsons, the Cottons, the Mathers. 
They cry, "Has it come to this? No breath in 
them ! Where is the inheritance we left our chil- 
dren?” Hark! From Old South, Old North, 
and the classic halls of old Harvard ! "No breath 
in them ! ” Angels whisper, and the winds of 
heaven answer, " No breath in them ! ” Oh ! 
ye watchmen on the towers of Zion ! Ye prophets 
of the Lord ! Prophesy ! Can these bones live ? 
"Yes! the Lord hath spoken. His promises are 
sure, and amen ! ” In the name of God, cry to 
the four winds. Oh, Breath ! breathe upon these 
slain ! Spirit Omnipotent ! breathe upon these 
dry bones ! Breathe upon the press, the bar, the 
church ! Breathe upon Liberalism ! Breathe 
upon the cold formalities of Orthodoxy ! Breathe 
upon Boston ! Once more may Boston rise and 
shine among the high places of the earth ! Let 
the electric spark from heaven touch her heart and 
bring her to life. Then shall her multitudes keep 
holy day! Churches be filled! Her Sabbath 
bells peal with anthems of praise ! Her liquor 
saloons be closed, gambling dens abolished, sin 
be abated, and Boston redeemed. And Boston, 
from her triune hills and classic halls, shall sing, 
" Hallelujah ! hallelujah ! The Lord God omnip- 
otent reigneth ! ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


GILDERSLEEVE MANSION. — SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 

" I declar* ! Dat ain't good manners ! No, it 
’t ain't!” exclaimed the colored servant, Sambo, 
to Mrs. Dawkins’s guests in the kitchen of the 
Gildersleeve mansion on Beacon Hill. ” Jus’ what 
de old proverb say, — 

‘ When de old cat be away, 

Den de mice dey play.’ ” 

" Why, what ’s the matter, Sambo ? ” said Gaddy 
Glibbens, who had now been installed for a week 
as Mrs. Dawkins’s chief assistant. "We ain't 
a-doin’ any harm. We ’re only tellin’ fortunes.” 

" Tellin’ fortunes ! Should t’ink you war ! Call 
dat tellin’ fortunes — knockin’ ober t’ings, an’ 
makin’ such a rumpus as dis yere ! ” 

" Don’t you be alarmed, Sambo,” said Mrs. 
Dawkins, laughing. " I have charge here during 
my master’s absence, and I ’ll see that no damage 
is done.” 

" All right, Miss Dawkins,” said Sambo, 


74 


GILDERSLEEVE MANSION. 


" Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” laughed Mrs. Dawkins. "Row 
you have spilled the salt, Gaddy Glibbens ! That 
means you ’ll have a quarrel with somebody. You 
and Jonathan will have a falling out, sure as the 
world ! ” 

" Then I ’ll spoil the sign,” said Jerks, throw- 
ing a pinch of the salt over his shoulder. " That ’ll 
stop the quarrel ! ” 

" Oh ! see this long stick in my tea ! ” cried 
Gaddy. " That ’s a sign of a lover. What a tall 
fellow he must be ! ” 

"Means me, of course,” said Jonathan, pulling 
up his dicky. " Ain't I about as tall as they 
make ’em ? ” 

" P’r’aps you ’ll turn out one of them crooked 
sticks, after all,” said Mrs. Dawkins. 

"You white folks is wuss dan de colored folks 
down Souf,” said Sambo, looking on with an air 
of disdain. "You b’lieb in signs wuss dan de 
niggers.” 

"There, my nose itches. It’s a sign I'm 
goin’ to have a kiss from a stranger,” said 
Gaddy. 

" Wal, I’d jest like ter see a stranger kissin’ you, 
that ’s all,” exclaimed Jerks. " I ’m a stranger, 
though. Haven’t seen you for three weeks, 
Gaddy. By hokey ! That means me every 
time ! ” 


SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 


75 


Suiting the action to the word, Jonathan caught 
Gaddy and gave her a sounding smack. 

Sambo’s dignity gave ivay at this. His loud 
guffaw was heard above the laughter of the 
rest. 

" Guess you, Jonathan Jerks, am goin’ ter 
marry Miss Giddy ! I fought you was mighty 
sweet on her. Hi ! yi ! Hopes you ’ll ask dis 
yer fellah ter de weddin\ Miss Giddy, she hung 
de chicken wish-bone ober de door, an’ tole me 
dat de fus’ man dat enters de room would be her 
liusban ’. Suah as de world, you was de fus’ man 
dat come in ! Ya ! ya ! ” 

" I declare if there ain’t three lamps burning all 
in a row,” said Mrs. Dawkins. "I never knew 
that sign to fail ! 

" What ’s dat ar a sign ob? ” asked Sambo. 

" Why, of a wedding to be sure.” 

"Yah ! yah! When all de signs am so obspi- 
cious ” — Sambo probably meant auspicious — 
"guess Miss Giddy an’ Mars’ Jerks got it all fixed 
up. Dat accounts for what I heerd you ’s sayin’ 
ter Missus Dawkins dis mornin’ ’bout de baby 
quession.” 

Gaddy blushed, and Jonathan looked sheepish 
at this. 

"What do you mean, you ninny?” said Mrs. 
Dawkins, frowning at Sambo. " All Miss Gaddy 


76 


GILDERSLEEYE MANSION. 


said was, that a baby ought to be always carried 
?/p-stairs before you carried it dowra-stairs.” 

" Yah ! yah ! Jus’ what I sed ! What dat mean, 
now?” 

" It means that it makes the baby high-minded 
to carry him up-stairs first.” 

"Yah ! yah ! Well, guess bettah wait till you ’s 
git de baby ’fore you carry um up-stairs ! ” 

"You sarcy fellow ! ” said Gaddy, turning away 
her blushing face. 

" Yah ! yah ! Ole Sambo mus’ hab his joke, 
Miss Giddy. Don’ yer go an’ be ’fended, now. 
’T ain't nuffin’ ter git mad ’bout.” 

"Your master must be pooty well off, Sambo,” 
said Jonathan, to turn the subject. "I calkilate 
now this ’ere house an’ fixin’s must ha’ cost a right 
down harndsome sum of money.” 

" Mars’ Gildersleebe ’s one ob de riches’ men 
in Boston,” said Sambo, proudly. " Guess he 
kin afford ter hab de stylish city house — ter say 
nuffin’ ob de ole homestead in de country — an’ 
what you call de fixings besides. Don’t beleebe 
you eber saw such fixings way up dar in Noo 
Hum’shire — dat I don’. You jes’ come up-stairs 
wid me, an’ I ’ll show you somefin’ dat will make 
yer open yer eyes.” 

This was exactly what Jonathan was after. 
Accordingly the whole party followed Sambo to 


SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 


77 


the upper parts of the house. Pausing in the 
spacious hall, Sambo directed the Yankee’s atten- 
tion to the various objects which adorned it, and 
then unlocking a door to the right, he conducted 
them into the parlor. 

" What you t’ink ob dis ? ” he said, after light- 
ing the jets of a large bronze chandelier. 

It was certainly the most astonishing sight 
Jonathan Jerks ever beheld, notwithstanding his 
European experience. He was fairly dazzled with 
the splendor of rich furniture, costly works of 
art, crimson and lace curtains, full-length mir- 
rors, and a thousand and one specimens of bric-a- 
brac teeming on every hand. But though amazed, 
the Yankee outwardly maintained a cool, indiffer- 
ent air. 

" Think of it ? Oh ! It ’s pretty fair for a 
museum,” he said. "But I should think the folks 
would be afraid to walk round here, for fear of 
knockin’ over somethin’ an’ smashin’ things gen- 
erally.” 

Sambo’s eyes opened to their widest extent. 
Such language as this was almost profanation, was 
little short of sacrilege to his mind. 

" Wha’ — wha’ yer say ? ” he almost gasped. 
f ■ Call dese yer magnifumcent parlors a musheum ? 
Wal, I declur’ ef I t ought you was such a igno- 
ramus, Mars’ Jerks.” 


78 


GIL.DERSLEEVE MANSION. 


" What ’s that thing hangin’ up there ? ” J ona- 
than asked, pointing to an escutcheon over one of 
the marble mantel-pieces. 

"Thing!” repeated the indignant Sambo. 
" Dat is de coat-ob-arms ob Missus Gildersleebe s 
family, I would jus’ hab you understan’, Mars’ 
Jerks. Missus is de descendent ob one ob de 
great ’ristocratic families. Her ginyology goes 
way back troo’ de Wiutrops, an’ de Trumbles, 
an’ de Addumses, — an’ de good Lor’ on’y knows 
what else.” 

" Should n't wonder ef it went back ter the old 
Adam himself — him that kicked up such a muss 
in the Garden of Eden,” said Jonathan, with a 
twinkle in his eye. 

Sambo disdained to answer this remark, and 
next conducted the party across the parlors to the 
conservatory. 

''Talk about de Garden ob Eden,” said Sambo, 
throwing open the door with an air of triumph. 
" Wha’ you’s say ter dis? Here am de fines’ pri- 
vate conservumtory in de lan’, I tell you! Trees 
and flowers way from Egupt, Yurrup, and Souf’ 
’Merika ! Guess you’s nebber see any any tin’ like 
dis yer b’fore ! ” 

"I should call it all a big waste o’ money,” said 
the practical Yankee. "I’d a sight ruther hev 
my garding a-growin’ outdoors. The smell of all 


SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 


79 


them flowers in a room ’s enough to make a feller 
sick. Phew ! le’s git out of here. It puts me in 
mind ov a funeral ! ” 

Room after room was visited, each presenting a 
scene of the most lavish adornment. At last they 
came to a handsomely furnished chamber. 

"This was poor Master Fred's room,” said Mrs. 
Dawkins, Avith a sigh. " They perfectly doated on 
him — their eldest horn.” 

"Dead, eh?” said Jerks. 

"Jus’ tAvo year ago,” Sambo answered, shaking 
his Avoolly head. " Dey felt mighty bad about it, 
Mars’ Jerks, I ken tell yer.” 

"And the room has never been used since the 
funeral,” added the housekeeper. "Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve said to me, — f Hannah, you will see that 
Mr. Fred’s room is kept locked up ; open it only 
when necessary to dust and air it.’ ” 

" Gosh ! You don’t say ! ” exclaimed Jonathan. 
"Did the young feller hev the small-pox or any of 
those ’ere ketchin' diseases ? ” 

"Nuffin oh de kind,” said Sambo. "He just 
done gone an’ tumbled out ob dis yer Avinder.” 

" Tumbled out the A\dnder ! ” repeated Jerks, 
while Gaddy gave a little cry of horror. 

"Oh, do tell us all about it. Mrs. Dawkins.” 

"Well, 1 don’t mind telling, only you must 
promise never to lisp a word, for it ’s a family 


80 


GILDERSLEEYE MANSION. 


secret , you see. Draw up them chairs and set 
down here then.” 

"How mysterious you be, Aunt Dawkins,” said 
Gaddy, all in a flutter. " Dear me ! I do hope 
it’s nothin’ about ghosts yew ’re goin’ ter tell us.” 

" Don’t talk about ghosts ! How ridiculous you 
are, Gaddy Glibbens,” retorted the housekeeper. 

Sambo shook his head gravely, but drew nearer 
to the group who had now seated themselves close 
together. The lamp which the negro held in his 
hand cast a fitful light around the apartment, — on 
the walls, the closed shutters, on the disused bed- 
stead in one dark corner. A chill somehow 
seemed to run through the veins of all, produced 
by Gaddy’s uncanny remark. 

" Wha’ for you talk ’bout de spooks, Miss 
Giddy?” said Sambo. "You should n’t orter say 
nuflin’ ’bout such t’ings in dis yer house.” 

" Poh ! Ghosts are all fiddlesticks ! ” said the 
matter-of-fact Yankee. " Dead folks never come 
ter life nowadays.” 

"Dunno ’bout dat,” persisted Sambo, with a 
mysterious air. " Guess ef Missus Dawkins an’ 
we war a mind ter, we could tell yer ’bout de 
strange sounds an’ de noises we ’s heard yer in de 
dead o’ night since de folks been away.” 

" All your imagination, or the wind rattlin’ the 
blinds,” returned Jonathan. " But go on with 


SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 


81 


your story, Miss Dawkins. The ' spooks/ as you 
call ’em, Sambo, won’t show themselves while 
I ’ m ’round, you can bet ! ” 

Thus adjured, the housekeeper proceeded to 
unfold her tale, which was as follows : — 

Fred Gildersleeve was the eldest son. He 
was dissipated, and by degrees became a 
confirmed drunkard. One night Mr. and Mrs. 
Gildersleeve with Gertrude had gone to a party, 
leaving Mrs. Dawkins and Sambo to await their 
arrival home. Midnight sounded and they had 
not come. Suddenly Mrs. Dawkins heard some 
one fumbling at the front door. She called 
Sambo. They went to the door, opened it, and 
Fred Gildersleeve, dreadfully intoxicated, fell 
across the threshold. Sambo quickly helped him 
to his feet, and then assisted him to his chamber. 
Soon after the family returned. 

"Has Mr. Fred come home?” Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve inquired. The housekeeper told her that 
he had, and had gone to his room. 

"It was really too bad,” said Gertrude, "that 
brother Fred did n’t go with us. He promised 
me he would go, and stay away from that horrid 
club for one night.” 

"Your brother is fonder of his club than of 
ladies’ society, Gertrude,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve. 
"I am glad indeed that he did not go. Mrs. 
Dawkins, did my son come home sober?” 


82 


GILDERSLEEVE MANSION. 


The housekeeper sadly shook her head. 

"Mr. Gildersleeve,” said his wife, sternly, 
"this thing must be stopped. It is time for you 
to exert your parental authority. Are we to be 
disgraced by this shameless son ? ” 

Before Mr. Gildersleeve could answer, before 
the words were hardly out of his wife’s mouth, 
they were startled by a sudden noise. A window 
was heard to open, and then a heavy body fell 
with a dreadful thud upon the ground without, 
while the midnight air was filled for an instant 
with a horrible, unearthly shriek; and then all 
was hushed. 

" It is Fred ! My God ! He has fallen from 
the window ! ” cried Mr. Gildersleeve ; and fol- 
lowed by Sambo and the others, he rushed out 
into the garden. 

A terrible sight met their horrified gaze. 

Lying in a heap under the window, his face 
covered with blood, his form quivering, was the 
unfortunate young man. He was unconscious. 

"Quick! Run for Dr. Lancet, Sambo,” cried 
Mr. Gildersleeve. 

The physician soon arrived and the still uncon- 
scious youth was borne to his chamber. 

"I can give you no hope,” said the doctor to 
Mr. and Mrs. Gildersleeve. "He can survive but 
a few days.” 


SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 


63 


Gertrude and the housekeeper were the dying 
man’s constant attendants. He clung to his sister, 
who tenderly loved him. When he regained con- 
sciousness, his first words were for Gertrude. 

" Oh, Gerty, do not leave me,’’ he said, faintly. 

I fear that I shall die. Oh! I cannot, cannot 
die ! Oh ! Send for the doctor ! Why does he 
leave me for a moment ? Tell my mother to come 
to my side. Oh ! mother ! mother ! Why did 
you put the wine before me ? Why did you have 
it on the table? You taught me first to drink. 
You said it was fashionable. Told me that wine 
never hurt anybody ! And yet it has brought me 
to this ! Where is the minister? Where is Mr. 
St. Claire? Why does he not come to give me 
consolation ? Why is he not here to pour balm 
upon my troubled spirit ? ” 

" Mr. St. Claire is here, brother,” said the 
weeping Gertrude, making way for the clergyman 
to approach. 

"I am sorry to see you thus, Fred,” said Mr. 
St. Claire. 

"Sorry!” exclaimed the dying youth. "Well 
may you be sorry ! Look there ! ” he added, 
with sudden energy, pointing to a decanter of 
wine on the table. " How many times have you 
drank that vile poison with me ! How many 
times have you laughed and joked over the wine 


84 


GILDERSLEEVE MANSION. 


in my presence ! Oh ! Do you know that rum 
has killed me? I came home drunk, and fell 
from yonder window! Drunk, because of your 
example, my father’s, even my mother’s example. 
Oh ! Why did you not warn me ? It was your 
duty as a minister of the Gospel to warn me. 
If you had only warned me, showed me my weak- 
ness, told me of my danger, oh, sir, I might have 
been a redeemed man, an honor to myself and to 
my family.” 

The words died away almost to a whisper. 
Before they could spring to his aid an awful pallor 
settled upon his face. His eyes closed. He fell 
back dead ! 

Such was Mrs. Dawkins’s story. 

"Oh, wasn’t it dreadful!” said Gaddy, her 
eyes suffused with tears. 

" Guess you ’d t’ought so ef you ’d been yer, 
Miss Giddy,” said Sambo. "It was de mourn- 
ful lest time I eber seed. Poor Miss Gertrood 
took on de wust ob all. It did seem as ef nuffin’ 
would comfort her. I b’lieb ef it hed n’t been for 
Father Titus, she ’d a gone ravin’ distracted. He 
seemed to be de on’y one dat could do Missy any 
good. It war an awfu’ blow ter de proud mudder, 
ter t’ink dat her on’y darter, dat she a’most wus- 
ships, would n’t lissen ter noboddy but de Cat’olic 
priest.” 


SERVANTS IN A FROLIC. 


85 


"Wal,” said Jerks, ”1 should ’a’ thought Mr. 
Freds death would V been a warnin’ ter his father 
an’ mother. I shouldn’t thought they ’d ever 
dared ter hev’ another drop of the durned p’ison 
in the house.” 

" Jus’ wha’ Mars’ Gildersleeve said hisself,” 
said Sambo. " But den yer see Missus wouldn’t 
see it in dat light. She nebber would ’low dat it 
was de liquor dat killed Mars’ Fred. It was an 
accydunt, — she called it, dat might ’a’ happened ef 
he ’d nebber seed a glass of wine or brandy. So 
you see de Missus swung ole Mars’ round ter her 
way ob t’inking, cos it am fash’nable ter pass 
round de Champagne an’ de Claret and de 
Madeery an’ de French brandy in de tiptop 
s’ciety.” 

" Wal,” said Jerks, as they all proceeded down- 
stairs, tiptop’ society may count’nance such 
customs, but ef it do, there ’ll be a reck’nin’ for it, 
sure as the Bible. You jist mark my word an' 
see ef a judgment don’t follow to parents that 
won’t take notice of such a plain warnin’ as 
you’ve been tellin’ about, Mrs. Dawkins.” 


CHAPTER Y. 


VISIT TO MU. GILDERSEEEVE’S OFFICE. — ]VIY AGENTS 
AT WORK. 

On arriving in Boston I learned that many lead- 
ing citizens let buildings for disreputable purposes. 
I resolved to enlist the co-oporation of the wealthy. 
I drew up a paper for property-owners to sign. 
It read as follows : "We, the undersigned, owners 
and controllers of real estate in Boston, do pledge 
ourselves not to let our buildings for disreputable 
purposes.” 

To this pledge I secured signatures representing 
two and a half millions. I met with hearty en- 
couragement from many of Boston’s richest men. 
But I also encountered opposition from quarters 
least expected. From members of the State and 
city government, even from church officials. 
They derided the idea, — refused to indorse the 
document. I made some discoveries that explained 
this opposition. One church dignitary was par- 
ticularly severe in his remarks. He owned, I 
found, whole blocks of houses let for purposes of 
shame. Nearly every inmate was engaged in a dis- 
creditable calling. No wonder he would not sign. 


MY AGENTS AT WORK. 


87 


One was a minister. I found even he let his 
houses for infamous purposes. Pocketed the 
double toll of vice and sin. Another man — a 
candidate at one time for governor of the State — 
also refused his signature. He raved and stormed 
at the very sight of the paper. "What ! ” he cried. 
"Put my name to that? Never! It was an un- 
warrantable interference,” he said. "An infringe-' 
ment on private right s.” 

Why did this man oppose the measure ? Be- 
cause he had a large income from property leased 
to liquor sellers and even for viler purposes. I 
found one association leased 100 liquor shops, to 
say nothing of houses of worse repute. One 
estate lets 20 houses mostly for infamous pur- 
poses. Another estate leases 40 immoral houses. 

Even within a stone’s throw of my own dwell- 
ing are a score of such places. One has existed 
for years right under the eaves of my church. I 
have complained time and again to the police 
authorities, but nothing is done to break it up. 
Two doors from my chapel a woman was arrested 
for keeping a human slaughter-house, — an illicit 
lying-in hospital. Next door to that a quack was 
arrested for the murder of both mother and child. 
The blood of infants reek to heaven ! The very 
stones of the street cry out ! 

Many of these dens and houses of shame are 


88 VISIT TO mu. gildersleeve’s office. 

to-day, covertly or openly, owned by Boston's so- 
called "respectable citizens.” Some of them men 
brimful of piety — but precious little morality. 
Men who say grace at every meal ; tell sweet little 
stories at the Sunday school. 

I met some of these men in Europe. They 
spent their ill-gotten riches with lavish hand and 
ostentatious display. They made the name of 
American a laughing stock and by-word, and 
brought reproach upon their native land. 

I called upon Mr. Gildersleeve, who had re- 
turned from abroad, to secure his signature. His 
elegant office was situated in a magnificent build- 
ing, the facade entirely of marble, with bronze and 
marble groups in alto relievo . Five flights of 
marble steps ascend between five rows of fluted 
columns in gilt and variegated colors. An ele- 
vator is also at the disposal of those wearied or in 
haste. 

" Glad to see you,” said Mr. Gildersleeve, 
with great cordiality. "What can I do for you, 
sir?”" 

"I came, Mr. Gildersleeve, to ask you to sign 
this paper. As a large owner of real estate, I 
think you can have no objection.” 

I handed it to him. He took it and smiled 
pleasantly, as if happy to oblige me. But as he 
perused it, his manner changed. He became cold 


MY AGENTS AT WORK. 


89 


and frigid. I had touched his tenderest part, — 
his pocket. 

' f No, sir, I decline, ” he said stiffly, handing 
back the paper. 

" But, Mr. Gildersleeve ! think of your property 
interest. Why, sir, there are a thousand build- 
ings in Boston, assessed at ten millions, that are 
used for disreputable purposes. Surely you will 
help suppress this state of things.” 

" No, sir. That is the owner's business.” 

" But, sir, property owners owe a duty to the 
community. They should set an example — dis- 
courage vice. Too many of them are willing to 
accept the spoils of crime and shame. I trust, 
Mr. Gildersleeve, you are not among the num- 
ber.” 

"Well, sir, I must refuse to sign. I have my 
own reasons for not wishing to place my name to 
your paper ; but I do not care to discuss them 
now. You cannot change my mind.” 

Mr. Gildersleeve was an obstinate man. I had 
attacked his private interests. He seemed to feel 
that I had invaded his " property rights.” I there- 
fore took my leave of him. Coming out of Mr. 
Gildersleeve's office, I met Jonathan Jerks, who 
had become one of my most active and efficient 
agents. 

" Wal, I swow ! how du you du,” he said. 


90 VISIT TO MR. GILDERSLEEVE’s OFFICE. 


" Jes’ going to report to you. Got a whole heap 
of facts for ye.” 

" Ah ! Jerks, what are they ? ” 

" Wal, I've been a looking up the doings of 
Boston pretty well. Gosh, now, jes’ hear fact 
number one : There ’s more ’n two million dollars 
spent in this here city for theatricals, fun and 
nonsense, and only jes’ about a million and a half 
for public education. I swan, ain’t that a fine 
showing for the city of culture, eh? ” 

Jonathan twitched his eyes, twisted his head 
and jerked himself comically about. 

"Yes, sir,” he continued. "But jes’ wait till 
I give ye fact number two, — it ’s a buster : There 
is fifteen million of dollars invested in the liquor 
trade. Yes, sir, that’s a solid fact. And, by 
hokey, efi that fifteen million don’t boss politics, 
the courts, and about the whole of Boston, then 
I ’ll eat my head, I will. Why they darsent go 
ag’in it. Democrats and Republicans are afraid of 
it, and have to knuckle down mighty close, I tell 
ye.” 


" Ah ! you are about right,” I returned. 

" Right ! you bet I am. But jes’ wait a minute. 
I hain't begun to give you my facts. Now here *s 
fact number three: There’s more’n 2,000 li- 
censed liquor dens in this here city. Jes’ think 
of it — more ’n 2,000 ! Why, every bad house — 


MY AGENTS AT WORK. 


91 


and there are a thousand of them in Boston — 
sells liquor, and mighty poor stuff, too, as fur as 
I can hear. Then there ’s any quantity of shops 
hain’t no license. Gosh ! they say there ’s a 
liquor law, but I kinder doubt it. Don’t see what 
good it does, anyway.” 

Jonathan capered about, flushed and excited. 

" Great gosh hemlock ! If I hain’t forgot fact 
number four — biggest of the whole lot, too. Wait 
a second,” and he dived into his coat pocket and 
brought up a greasy slip of paper. " Great 
Jehosophat Pease ! ” cried Jerks, handing me the 
paper, " jes’ cast yer eye over this here and see ! ” 

I took the slip' and glanced at it. But his 
erratic hierogylphics were too illegible to make 
out. 

" What is it?” I asked. 

" What is it?” exclaimed Jerks, excitedly, 
swinging his arms, as if he had got his elbow- 
crank right on the evil. " Why, sir, this here is 
a list of nine ministers — ministers of the gospel, 
mind ye — who belong to a Boston drinking club. 
Big, high-tone fellows, too. None of yer little 
shrimps. I sv\ranny ! What in thunder is Boston 
a cornin’ to if her ministers are a going to uphold 
drinking? Nice example they set for their con- 
gregation to follow now, don’t they, eh? ” 

"It ’s a disgrace to the cloth,” I rejoined. 


92 VISIT TO MR. gilderseeeve’s office. 

" Jes’ what I say,” said Jonathan, warmly. " It 
brings shame on to the whole clergy, to have a lot 
of the high-tone fellows countenance liquor in this 
way, I swow if it don’t. But I ’ve larnt a thing 
or two, I can tell ye. And one thing is that the 
I liquor interest ’s got sunthing to say about church 
as well as state. Yes, sirree, that ’s so. They 
stick their finger in every pie, by hokey, if they 
don’t. I can tell you churches where the big rum 
seller is cock of the walk. Yes, sir, where priest 
or parson ilatters him up mighty high jes’ to get 
the money wrung from poor drunken wretches, 
and from the heart’s blood of thousands sent to 
ruin by the liquor fiend. I swow, it’s too all 
fired, tarnation mean, it is.” 

And Jonathan went off like a firecracker into 
a perfect whirlwind of jerks, brought his fist down 
upon the palm of his hand with an emphatic slap 
of virtuous indignation. 

"But that ain’t all, not by a long chalk,” he 
continued. "Jes’ wait till I stun you with number 
five. I ’ve been a-looking up this here gambling 
biz in Boston, and what do I find? Why, that j 
there’s about 30 policy shops in full blast, run : 
night and day. And they ain’t secret, either, 
mind ye. Run jes’ as open as daylight. The 
police, they know ’em all. You bet they do. 
But they don’t touch ’em. Lose their head if 


MY AGENTS AT WORK. 


93 


they did. And then there ’s about 50 faro banks 
and prop-rooms in Boston. Police know them, 
likewise. Don’t distub them, either. Why, one 
of the big gamblers says he is hand and glove 
with the officers. They might swoop down on the 
poor heathen Chinese and the negroes once in a 
while, jes’ to let the public think they ’re smart, 
but they don’t dare to touch the big whales. No, 
sir, not much.” 

"They should be broken up,” said I. "Let 
public opinion be aroused and the authorities 
would be compelled to act.” 

" That ’s so. You Ve hit the nail whack on the 
head this time,” said Jonathan, emphatically nod- 
ding his head and rolling his eyes. " That ’s the 
only way. Yes, sir, and you ’re the man to do it, 
Mr. Morgan. I’ll help all I can, ’cause it’s an 
eternal shame to let these ’ere gambling dens go 
right on under the nose of the police and nothing 
done to stop ’em. Why, sir, some of the big 
bugs — high officials, politicians and wealthy mer- 
chants — go into these places and lose their money. 
Yes, sir, that’ s so. There ’s a friend of mine now. 
Come down from Maine. Dad give him $1,200 to 
pay the mortgage on the farm. Wal, what did 
the fool do? Why, a smiling stranger met him 
on the boat, and he fell into his clutches as easy 
as rolling off a log. Got him into one of these 


94 VISIT TO MR. gilderslefve’s office. 

’ere dens, and fleeced him out of every red 
cent.” 

Jonathan almost cried at the remembrance of 

* 

his friend’s misfortune. 

"Yes, sir, and then there was a minister I 
know’d of. Got pulled into one of these places. 
Thought he ’d only look on. But like a pesky 
fool, he kinder got fascinated and risked his 
money. Lost, of course. They always do in the 
end. Wal, he lost $1,800, every cent the poor 
fellow had. Why, it made him almost crazy. 
Had to beg like a dog for enough money to get 
home with. Any quantity of cases jes’ like it, 
too. Yes, sir, these ’ere dens should be shut up 
in double quick time. But I tell ye it ’ll take a 
big moral earthquake to do it, though. The big 
whales are in with the police mighty strong. Yes, 
sir, their affection for each other is something all- 
fired touching. Never seed nothing like it in my 
time.” 

Jonathan searched his many pockets, and at 
last brought out another slip of paper. 

" There , by hokey ! ” said he , impressively. " J es’ 
wait till I give yer number six. It ’ll paralyze 
ye. There, look at that.” 

I took the paper. It contained a long list of 
names. 

" What are these ? ” I asked. 


MY AGENTS AT WORK. 


95 


"Them? Them ’s quacks — them ’s frauds! 
humbugs ! pre-natal murderers ! forgers ! con- 
victs ! and to sum ’em all up — rascals ! and some 
of ’em are mighty big ones, too.” 

"They are not genuine doctors, then?” said I. 

"Genuine — doctors!” exclaimed Jerks, con- 
temptuously. " Wal, I guess not. No more hi I’m 
one. Only diploma they ’ve got is from State 
Prison or House of Correction. I swan ! Ef I 
don’t think they are the biggest humbugs of all. 
Don't know no more about medicine than a hen 
does of geology. They ’ve most all of ’em been 
taken up, and sent to prison for some crime, from 
passing counterfeit money to killing innocent 
babes. Sir, I tell ye, they ’re a mighty mean set. 
But hold on. Jes’ wait a minute till I fetch out 
another fact.” 

And Jonathan again dived into his pockets and 
brought forth an old envelope, scribbled over from 
top to bottom. 

" Ah ! Here ’s my memorandum,” said he, 
trying to decipher his own scrawls. "Wal, sir, 
here is facts. Good, solid, substantial facts. Wal, 
to begin with, there’s about 200 irreg’lar doctors 
in Boston. Wal, sir, out of that ’ere 200, there ’s 
only four as has got diplomas from any college. 
Some of ’em advertise ' Board and Nursing.’ 
They ’ll take any case from $5 to $500 or $1,000. 


96 VISIT TO MR. gildersleeve’s office. 


By Jiminy ! it ’s a tarnation shame they ain’t in 
State Prison, where they belong, the whole 
caboodle of ’em.” 

And Jonathan pranced around in his indigna- 
tion, wrenching his hand like a stove grate, 
threatening to make it hot for them. 

"Well, Jerks,” said I, "what is your next 
batch of facts.” 

" Here they are, right down in black and white,’ 
said Jonathan, turning his envelope over. "Num- 
ber seven is a crusher. It’s Sabbath desecra- 
tion. Why, sir, Sunday in Boston is almost a 
holiday. Yes, sir, jes’ as sure as I ’m a sinner. 
Why, jes’ look at the excursions, the concerts, 
the theatrical seances. Think of it, and in Puri- 
tan Boston, too. Gosh geewhiliky ! I ’m thun- 
derstruck. Why, there are 8 railroads runnin’ 
16 trains Sunday. Steamboats an’ yachts innu- 
merable down the harbor, all bound for fun an’ 
frolic. Then, sir, there are more ’n a thousand 
rum-shops goin’ it lickity-split all day Sunday and 
a big piece into the night.” 

"Yes, my agents have reported them in full 
blast Sundays as well as other days,” I replied. 

"I should say so!” cried Jerks, emphatically. 
"Why, they make more money Sunday than any 
other day of the week. Customers come right 
from church into the rum-shop and guzzle down 


MY AGENTS AT WORK. 


97 


poor gin and whiskey like greased lightning. 
But the worse thing of the whole, an’ what ought 
to make the old Puritans a'most turn in their 
graves, is these here ' spiritual seances/ as they 
call ’em. Why, they seem to have enamost taken 
the place of the Prayer Meeting, with their table- 
tipping, hand showing, moving of pianos an’ 
strumming of guitars an’ the whole lot of humbug, 
an’ all done, too, in the name of religion. Jeho- 
key ! Ef this ain’t barefaced swindlin’, then I 
don't know what is.” 

And Jonathan showed his indignation all over, 
jerking his head and twisting himself in all man- 
ner of shapes. 

" Great Jehosophat Stubs ! ” he exclaimed, 
bringing his hand down heavily on his thigh, " an’ 
this is Boston. Wal, I swow ! Ef I don’t believe 
it’s about as bad as Paris. Yes, sir, gambling, 
drinking, bad houses, Sunday desecration — wal, 
I svvanny ! ef Boston ain’t in a pretty bad fix. 
I 've took a job to help reform her, but I guess I 
got a bigger job on hand than I thought I had,” 
— turning up his elbow as if it was not big enough 
to turn the machine. 


7 


CHAPTER YI. 


MIDNIGHT AT THE HUE. — MY OWN EXPLORATIONS. 

Not alone did I trust to the reports of my 
agents. I was constrained to go and see for my- 
self. A voice from the street called me ; the 
burden of the city was upon me. A prophet of 
warning stood by my side, and said, " Sleeper, 
awake ! awake ! Art thou a watchman ? Dost 
thou slumber? The burden of Boston’s sins be 
upon thee ! Her crimes shall alarm thee ! Her 
blood will I require at thy hand.” His form was 
as the shade of night. His face shone as the 
stars ; and his voice was as the voice of doom. 
Roused by that dread spectre I was led to the 
street. 

It was midnight. Alone I started on my explo- 
rations into the Dark Ways and By-Ways of 
Boston. A thick mist hung over the city. That 
mist however was not so dense as the cloud of 
Boston's mysteries and crimes. The hand on the 
dial of the Old South pointed upward to twelve. 
It was the noon of night. Hark ! That mournful 


MY OWN EXPLORATIONS. 


99 


note "Cling! Clang! Toll! Toll! One — two 
— three ” — up to twelve. 

A great wave of solemn sound vibrates over the 
city. Steeple responds to steeple, belfry to bel- 
fry. That sound seems like the moaning of a lost 
spirit, uttering its lament of " Woe! Woe ! Woe!” 
to the young men of Boston. I met no watchman 
as of old, crying, "All’s Well! All’s Well.” 
For alas ! It is not well — it is ill with Boston ! 

Seven theatre trains have just borne off their 
rural loads ! rumbling over the city drawbridges, 
over the dark waters where lie lost and hidden 
from mortal ken the countless unreported dead ! 
No flash of headlight can reveal their sepulchre ! 
No sound of whistle awake them ! No cannon’s 
roar bring them to the surface ! Not alone that 
poor girl found floating by a drawbridge near 
Boston, visited by two hundred anxious people, 
each searching for a lost friend. Think of it ! 
Those people represent two hundred sorrowing 
homes, two hundred bleeding hearts. Can it be ! 
Merciful heaven ! Can it be possible that there 
are two hundred missing women in and around 
Boston at one time ! 

As I strayed through the streets the dark cur- 
tain of midnight was pierced by myriads of flash- 
ing lights. Strains of bacchanalian song, drunken 
shouts and ribald laughter greeted my ear. Here 


100 


MIDNIGHT AT THE HUB. 


I passed dwellings, former abodes of aristocracy, 
now changed to haunts of the vile. There once 
happy homes, now pest-houses of crime. 

Follow me as I invoke the spirit of Asmodeus, 
lift the roofs of the houses, remove the walls and 
unveil Boston’s mysteries. Here we discover the 
secret of her degeneracy. Let us peer into the 
curtained chamber, tread the hidden arcades 
where pleasure holds high carnival, and behold the 
altars burning with incense to the genius of vice 
and crime. Now is the hour sacred to the rites 
of Anatis, Bel and Jezebel. Two hundred gam- 
ing-tables click and rattle, breathing hope and 
despair at the cast of the die or turn of the card. 
Two thousand liquor saloons blaze on the cheek 
of night with seductive invitation. 

Here is a street of fifty houses once occupied 
by respectable owners, now leased to doubtful 
occupants, all kept for lodgers, save two ; and 
''no questions asked!” Three fourths of these 
lodgers are females, half of them having no 
visible occupation. One hundred women in one 
short street living in idleness and vice ! Here 
Piper struck with the hammer his sleeping victim 
before murdering Mabel Young. Here Julia 
Ilawkes was met by Costello and led out to be 
murdered. Here Jennie Clark met her seducer, 
and was led to the foul den from which she never 


MY OWN EXPLORATIONS. 


101 


returned. Here a gay bank cashier met the 
actress who caused his ruin. Through her he 
became a defaulter to the sum of $40,000. Here 
the nephew instigated by his mistress planned the 
robbery of his uncle’s safe, obtaining $30,000. 
Here a Fast Young Man driven to desperation by 
fear of discovery, went out to take his life because 
he had embezzled $300 from his employers. 

This street is notorious in the annals of crime. 
Yet Boston has many such streets. Here are 
miles on miles of lodging-houses instead of homes. 
Thousands of young men have only a private 
room, without a fire, destitute of all endearing 
charms. With no fond ties of affection ; no wife, 
mother, sister, or child to make home dear ; no 
sweet meal blessed by love’s tender smiles. A 
solitary room, a lunch out, without a kind word or 
a friend to cheer, or a night in the street, in a 
saloon, at some cheap place of amusement or 
more doubtful resort ; then returning to his cheer- 
less chamber, to wait the coming of weary morn. 

Such is clerk life, shop life, single life in Bos- 
ton. No wonder people thus exposed yield to the 
temptations of false love, fall in the net, seek 
mediums and questionable affinities to soothe their 
lonely hours. 

No city on the continent has so many disreputa- 
ble Mediums, Clairvoyants, Wizards, and Fortune- 


102 


MIDNIGHT AT THE HUB. 


tellers as the Puritan city of Boston. No city but 
Boston would allow such performances as they 
give on Sunday, and especially Sunday night. 
The city that once hanged Quakers, scourged 
Baptists, and drowned witches, now patronizes and 
protects witchcraft of the vilest kind. It has 
more than two hundred witches in the shape of 
Spiritual Mediums, Mesmerists, and Clairvoyants. 
But few are found in the directory, they change 
their names so often. Some answer to several 
names, — physicians, electric and magnetic heal- 
ers, dressmakers, housekeepers, and managers of 
happy marriages. Their signs are seen every- 
where, more than a hundred of them on disreputa- 
ble houses. 

The disinterested wizard and fortune-teller can 
fill any order, supply any demand, material or 
spiritual. Great is the power of humbug. The 
majority of mankind seem to enjoy being hum- 
bugged. The first man that ever started out in 
life was humbugged — Adam ! He got hum- 
bugged by his better half — the Woman! He 
kinder sorter liked it! So have all of Adam’s 
children ever since. Humbug has a certain fasci- 
nating charm. We fall easy victims to its machi- 
nations. 

Are you out of health? A medium will cure 
you for a dollar, by laying on of hands or the aid 


MY OWN EXPLORATIONS. 


103 


of the spirits. Just as you like: "You pays 
your money, gentlemens, and you takes your 
choice.” Do you want to be a scholar without the 
trouble of studying? She will show you a "royal 
road to knowledge ” for twenty-five cents ! What 
trouble and toil we had to get our education ! 
Now we can get it all complete for a quarter ! 

Do you want to learn to write without pen or 
ink? Send a dollar by mail. Answer comes 
back: "Letter and money received. Question: 
'How to write without pen or ink?’ Answer: 
Write with a lead pencil , you fool you!” She will 
tell you of a "Hundred Ways to Get Kick.” No 
need of being poor, sick, lonely or Without a Wife. 
Send for a Book. Only 50 cents. That will tell 
you all. You can get a husband for a dollar. A 
wife for fifty cents. Goods are not warranted, 
however. They are not fast colors. They run! 

Now we come to North Street. Hark ! the 
fiddle and the dance ! Hark ! the midnight 
carousal! Who are these revellers? Who these 
tempters and the tempted ? Alas ! Mostly col- 
ored people. Old Ann Street is no longer 
monopolized by the reckless sailor and his Dul- 
cinea. They have given place to freedmen from 
the South. Is it possible that freedmen have 
fallen so low ? Is it possible that they have taken 
possession of Boston’s lowest haunts ? Let us see. 


104 


MIDNIGHT AT THE HUB. 


There where Father Mason held his great relig- 
ious meetings — the " Black Sea ” — now sounds 
the roll-call of the dance, click of glasses, fiddle 
and the jig. An herculean son of Afric strides 
up and down the floor, shouting, — 

" Choose partners fo’ de las’ set. Las’ dance ob 
de night. Five couples wanted. Here dey come. 
Two couple moah ! One couple moah ! Now dar 
de set all full ! Now den, all ready ! Strike up 
de music ! ” 

The floor trembles with the commotion. 
Thump ! thump ! thump ! The caller cries : 
"Balance to partners. Ladies’ grand chain ! All 
promenade ! All hands around ! Bight hand to 
partners ! Grand right and left ! Swing part- 
ners ! All chausee! Yaw! Yaw! Yaw!” So 
much for the Negro dance. The scene is like 
pandemonium. 

In the midst of the din and tumult three young 
white men came noisily into the hall, evidently 
intoxicated. They were fashionably attired, — 
young "bloods” so called, apparently out on a 
"spree” or a "lark.” A glance told that they 
belonged to the upper stratum of society. The 
features of one of them seemed familiar to me. 
He was tall and good-looking, but his face showed 
signs of constant dissipation. I could not at the 
moment recall where I had seen him. 


MV OWN EXPLORATIONS. 


105 


The new-comers were immediately assailed by 
several of the frail creatures. 

"Come, ducky, give us a treat, won't you?” 
said a young mulatto girl to the youth who had 
attracted my particular attention. She put her 
arm familiarly round his neck, and motioned 
toward the bar. 

"You bet, sis,” replied the other with a drunken 
leer, returning her caress. " That ‘s just what 
(hie) I’m here for, to treat (hie) the girls and 
have some (hie) fun. So all hands chavsee up to 
the (hie) bar. I’ll stand the shot! Here, bar- 
keeper, take your (hie) pay out of that.” 

And with these words the besotted young man 
threw on the counter a ten-dollar bill. At the 
same moment I caught a closer view of his fea- 
tures and suddenly recognized him. It was Frank 
Gildersleeve, — the only son of my Paris acquaint- 
ance ! One of his companions was a dentist, 
Dr. Richard Forceps. 

But enough of them for the present. We shall 
meet Frank Gildersleeve and Dr. Forceps fre- 
quently anon in these pages. 

But to resume : These colored people, some of 
them once slaves, whipped and branded, whose* 
sufferings had won the sympathy of the whole 
North, are here in these pestiferous haunts throw- 
ing soul and body away. What slavery at the 


106 


MIDNIGHT AT THE HUB. 


South could not do to degrade manhood, vice at 
the North is more than doing. I said, " Has it 
come to this, that men should so degrade them- 
selves, be in deeper slavery in Boston, with free 
churches, free schools, reading-rooms, and free 
libraries, than when they were mere chattels ? Is 
it for this the North poured out her blood and 
treasure? A million men in battle fell, their 
bones now bleaching on Southern soil. All this 
for the negro . ” 

But is he worthy? We erected monuments 
throughout the North, incurred a thousand mill- 
ions of debt, and millions of people were made 
to mourn. Has it come to this, then, that freedom 
encourages more dissipation than bondage ? There 
is " something rotten in Denmark ! ” Here untu- 
tored freedmen fall into the snare, rot in filth and 
vice, die early and lose their souls. How long, O 
Lord, shall this thing be? How long shall men 
be slain by vice more than by war ? How long 
shall Boston be thus degraded? Up ! Up ! Up ! 
Ye men of Puritan Boston ! Raise a blast of in- 
dignation that shall purify her streets ; make it 
too hot for bad men to tarry; fire the press, the 
pulpit, and public opinion ; kindle a flame that 
shall burn to the lowest hell ; drive the plague 
spot from her face; sweep like a simoom the 
pestilence from our midst; start the avalanche of 


MY OWN EXPLORATIONS. 


107 


public sentiment ; hurl the thunderbolt of out- 
raged justice ; say that Boston, enslaved Boston, 
by the help of God, shall yet throw off the 
shackles of vice, protect the freedmen, and her- 
self be free 1 


CHAPTER VII. 


ON THE COMMON. — FRANK MEETS MINNIE. 

It is Sunday night. The respectful quiet of 
the day is somewhat disturbed as the evening 
shades settle down. Crowds of promenaders fill 
the principal avenues. The umbrageous shade 
of the Common, its pleasant walks, inviting seats, 
the velvety richness of the grass, the cooling 
spray of the fountain in the Frog Pond, allure 
thousands to this green spot in the heart of the 
great city. 

Two men are sauntering along the Beacon 
Street mall. They are Frank Gildersleeve and 
his constant companion, his fidus achates , Dr. 
Richard Forceps. Both are dressed in the height 
of the fashion, but a distinction between them 
can be seen at a glance. Frank’s garments exhibit 
the good taste of one " to the manner born ” ; For- 
ceps’s shows the " loud ” and flashy tone of the 
servile imitator of gentility — the parvenu . Jew- 
elry is conspicuous on the dentist’s person ; he 
seems to bristle at every point with gold and 


FRANK MEETS MINNIE. 


109 


sparkling gems ; diamond studs glisten in his 
cambric shirt bosom, solitaire rings flash on either 
delicate hand, which he takes every opportunity 
to display ; as, for instance, when he raises his 
gold eye-glasses to his eyes, — a frequent habit, 
which he imagines adds to his tout ensemble , a 
highly distinguished and impressive effect. 

Suddenly the dentist pauses, turns partially 
toward two young girls who are passing, and with 
a grace which Beau Nash might have envied, 
raises his glossy hat. 

" By Jove ! What a pretty girl ! ” exclaimed 
Frank Gildersleeve as they resume their walk. 
"Who is she, Dick? How did you get ac- 
quainted ? Where does she live ? ” 

" Too many questions to answer in a breath, 
my dear fellow," responds the other. " Why are 
you so intensely interested about a woman you 
never saw before? You did not notice her dress, 
nor her cheap hat, nor her frayed gloves, I’ll 
bet ! ” 

" I only noticed that she had the loveliest face 
and the most graceful figure that I ever beheld ! ” 
said Frank, enthusiastically. 

"Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” laughed Forceps. " Well, you 
are a good judge, Frank. But she’s only a poor 
girl ; not your sort, at all, my boy. Who is she, 
you ask? I can't tell you exactly. All I know 


110 


ON THE COMMON. 


is that she is a customer of mine. She came in to 
the office with that same girl who was with her 
now, to have me look at a tooth that wants filling. 
She ’s from out of town, somewhere, I think. 
She made an appointment to call at the office 
again to-morrow. And that’s all the information 
I can give you.” 

" She is coming to you to-morrow, then? ” said 
Frank. "I say, Dick, /’m coming too! I’d go 
ten miles to see such a fresh, innocent-looking face 
as that.” 

"Ha! ha! ha! You’re really smitten, Frank. 
A case of love at first sight, I declare.” 

"Nonsense!” said the younger man, his face 
flushing. "Can’t a man admire a pretty face 
without falling in love with its owner? But if I 
come, you ’ll introduce me, won’t you, Dick? ” 

" Oh ! of course ! of course ! since you ’re set on 
it. However, I advise you, remember, to give 
up the notion, and not bother about pretty girls 
who have to work for a living. Good gracious ! 
What would your father say, or your proud and 
fashionable mamma, if they heard their only son 
had got into an entanglement with a poor working 
girl ! But there — I was only joking ; don’t get 
wrathy, my boy ! ’’ he hastily added, as he saw 
that he had gone too far, and that his companion’s 
face wore a displeased look. 


FRANK MEETS MINNIE. 


Ill 


The two soon after left the Common and took 
their way arm-in-arm down Boylston Street to 
Washington. 

"Well met, Frank!” exclaimed one of three 
young men, who were approaching toward them ; 
and immediately all five were exchanging saluta- 
tions. The new-comers were friends and intimates 
of Frank Gildersleeve, who quickly introduced 
them to his companion. 

" Will you and your friend join us ? ” said the 
one who had first spoken, and whose name was 
Harry Waters. He was the son of a wealthy 
wholesale merchant, and a clerk in his fathers 
office, but much more given to spend his time on 
his pleasures than in the duties of the counting- 
room. 

" AYhich way are you bound ? ” asked Frank. 

" First to get a drink, and after that to see the 
sights, and so forth,” said Waters, with a knowing 
wink. 

"A drink, Sunday night, and in Boston!” 
exclaimed Forceps, in affected surprise. "It can’t 
be possible ! I thought Bostonians had to go dry 
one day in the week, certainly.” 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” All hands joined in the merri- 
riment excited by Forceps’s remark. 

" Come along, doctor,” said Waters, " and 
we ’ll prove what a mistaken notion you ’ve got of 
Boston. We ’ll show you ' the ropes.’ ” 


112 


ON THE COMMON. 


In reality Dick Forceps could have shown them 
all what Harry Waters called "the ropes,” and 
many things besides in the dark and crooked w r ays 
of city life. There were few haunts of dissipa- 
tion in Boston that he was not " posted ” on ; but 
he said nothing, and followed the rest to a fash- 
ionable saloon near by. 

Within the bar-room — access to which was 
gained by a back door — a large company was 
assembled, smoking and drinking, while some 
were playing cards " for the drinks.” It was no 
vulgar crowd ; no " horny-handed sons of toil ” 
were to be seen ; only men whose genteel exterior 
showed that they belonged to the higher social 
circles. There was no turbulence, no drunken 
tumult ; the men drank and smoked, and laughed 
and jested, after the manner of "good society.” 
But how many of those young men will date their 
utter ruin from that fashionable Sunday drinking- 
place ! 

This scene is repeated here every Sabbath, day 
and night. All over the city are similar resorts 
for Sunday drinking. Yet it is gravely asserted 
that Boston has no open bars on Sunday ; that 
the police authorities rigidly enforce the Sunday 
law. 

"Well, gentlemen, name your poison,” said 
Harry Waters, as the party stood at the bar. 


FRANK MEETS MINNIE. 


113 


" Whiskey straight for me,” said one. 

f ' And mine *s a sherry cobbler,” said Frank. 

" Ditto for me.” 

"And what is yours, sir?” asked the urbane 
barkeeper of Dr. Forceps. 

" A lemonade,” said the latter. 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” laughed the young men. 

"Wait a moment, gentlemen,” said Forceps. 
"You didn't permit me to finish. A lemonade, 
barkeeper, but with a stick in it , if you please.” 

At the same time Forceps made an impercepti- 
ble sign to the barkeeper which the latter under- 
stood. The dentist was an old acquaintance, 
though pretending not to recognize him. When 
the lemonade was forthcoming there was not 
" stick ” enough in it to hurt a fly. 

Dick Forceps knew that he would have to drink 
many times before his companions left the saloon. 
Each, according to the etiquette of such meetings, 
would treat in turn, and the dentist had no notion 
of letting liquor get the best of him. 

" When the wine is in the wit is out,” says the 
proverb ; and Forceps was too wary a scoundrel , 
he had too many dark secrets in his plotting brain, 
to run any such hazard. 

At this moment Jonathan Jerks entered. He 
was on his tour of inspection into Boston’s dark 
ways. * 

8 


114 


ON THE COMMON. 


" Wal, I swow ! ” he cried, with a twitch of 
the eyes and a jerk of the head. " Gosh ! If I 
thought I’d see you in this here den, Frank; 
mighty poor place, I swanny.” 

"Hullo, old fel,” exclaimed Frank, cordially 
greeting Jonathan and winking to his companions. 
"Why, Jerks, ain’t this a kinder tough place for 
you to be in, eh? Hurt your character, won’t 
it?” 

"Wal, guess I can stand it, ef the place can,” 
returned Jerks. " Perticularly as I don’t take 
nothin’. I swan ! what a plaguy sight of liquor 
I ’ve seen sold to-day. By hokey ! Ef I don’t 
believe Sunday is almost a holiday in Boston. 
Why, I ’ve been up to a rum-shop, right by the 
Cathedral. Wal, sir, I’m blest ef they didn’t 
come right out from mass an’ steer straight for 
that liquor shop. Gosh ! Why, I counted 26 go 
up to the bar an’ drink in twenty minutes. Wal, 
then I went up to 'a place right near St. James’ 
Church on Harrison Avenue. Why, sir, they 
came in through a side door, after twelve o’clock 
service, jes’ about as thick as fleas, an’ got their 
'bitters.’ Counted 55 myself in less than an 
hour.” 

" Ha, ha ! ” laughed Waters. " You might stick 
in us five, and make an even 60, eh? ” 

"Hullo, Jerks, so you’re seeing the elephant, 
eh ? ” said Frank. 


FRANK MEETS MINNIE. 


115 


" Yes, sirree,” returned Jonathan with emphasis. 
w I ’m looking right into the bottom of the hub, 
you can bet.” 

” Well, come on, boys,” said Harry Waters, 
interrupting. " Let ’s move on ! T won’t do to 
stagnate, you know. Sunday only comes once a 
week.” 

And following him the rest of the party left the 
place. 

"By gracious!” said Jonathan, looking after 
them. "And this is what they call the Lord- 
lovin’ and law-abidin’ city of Boston! Wal, it’s 
enough to make a graven image weep ter see such 
goin’s-on ! Where ’s the Sunday laws? Where ’s 
the police, I ’d like to know? I swow ! ef Sunday 
liquor sellin’ ain't one of the biggest evils I Ve 
struck yet in Boston.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


FRANK IN TIIK DENTIST’S OFFICE. — MINNIE TEEES 
HER HISTORY. 

"So you are on hand, Frank, in spite of late 
hours?” said Dick Forceps, as Frank Gildersleeve 
came into the dentist’s office at an early hour the 
following morning. The young man had a some- 
what jaded look about the eyes. He was young 
in dissipation as yet, and its effects, together with 
the loss of sleep, left visible marks upon his fresh 
and handsome countenance. Forceps’s face, how- 
ever, told no tales. His potations were never 
deep. His cold and calculating nature prevented 
him from abandoning himself to the wild and 
reckless excesses of ardent youth. He was a sort 
of moral monster, who took a species of delight 
in encouraging the vices of others, while skilfully 
drawing his own profit from their weaknesses. 

"You look as if you had been drawn through 
a knot-hole, my dear boy,” continued the dentist. 
"This will never do, old fellow. Here, come into 
the operating-room, and bathe your red eyes with 
bay rum. Ah ! That ’s better. Now, take a 


MINNIE TELLS TIER HISTORY. 


117 


moderate swig of this cocktail, and you’ll be in 
decent trim to meet the fair Minnie when she 
arrives.” 

While speaking, Forceps had taken a bottle 
labelled " cocktail” from a cupboard, and turning 
a portion of its contents into a tumbler, passed 
the latter to the young man. 

" You’re right, Dick,” said Frank, after tossing 
off the liquor. " I feel like a new man already. 
And now, what hour is the young beauty to be 
here? For, do you know, you didn’t think to 
tell me the time appointed, and that ’s why I came 
down so early.” . 

" It was arranged that she should come at 
eleven o’clock. It is now ten, so you will have a 
whole hour in which to curb your impatience. 
Sit down there in the reception-room and look at 
the papers. I ’ve got some work to do.” 

"Look here, Dick,” said Frank Gildersleeve 
suddenly. " I 've got an idea ! ” 

" The deuce you have ! ” said the dentist, 
humorously. "That’s more than many a rich 
young noodle can say,” he added to himself. 
Then aloud: "Well, what is it?” 

" Supposing you introduce me to the lovely 
Minnie as your partner? That would make the 
matter more natural, you see. I wouldn’t have 
her suspect who I really am — a rich, idle young 


118 FRANK IN THE DENTIST’S OFFICE. 

fellow, you know — for anything. She’d think 
I was a hawk right away, and the frightened little 
dove would take to her wings at once.” 

" Then you seriously intend to make love to the 
girl?” asked Forceps, curiously. 

" I don't intend anything of the kind,” rejoined 
Frank, hastily. "But what if I did? I shouldn't 
be the first rich man’s son that had fallen in love 
with a poor girl, ay ! and married her, too, for 
that matter ! ” 

"Marry her! ” exclaimed Dick Forceps, laying 
down the tools he was using and starting to his 
feet in surprise. "You don't mean to say you’re 
such a romantic ninny as to think of such a thing 
as marriage ! Reflect a moment, my dear fellow ; 
you never saw the girl till yesterday, and then 
only for half a minute.” 

"You take it too seriously, Dick,” answered 
the young fellow, with a laugh. "This is counting 
the chickens before they are hatched. I have no 
intention even of falling in love with Minnie 
Marston. She ’s a marvellously pretty girl ; she 
looks good and innocent ; and I have taken a 
fancy that I would like to become acquainted 
with her. Now, will you do what I asked ? ” 

"Introduce you as my partner, eh? Well, I 
suppose I shall have to, if you insist on it.” 

" You won't regret humoring my whims, Dick. 


MINNIE TELLS HER HISTORY. 


119 


You know I ’m no niggard, and can afford to pay 
for all my fun.” 

" Ok ! Don’t speak of pay between friends, my 
boy,” said Forceps, in an injured tone. "You 
know I would do anything for you for mere 
friendship’s sake.” 

"Of course you would, Dick Don't I know 
what an easy, good-hearted fellow you are? But 
come ! Give me a few lessons right off. Set me 
about something, so when she comes she can see 
I *m hard at work.” 

And the young man, as pleased with the notion 
as a child with a new toy, threw off his coat, and 
seated himself at the bench, while Forceps laugh- 
ingly proceeded to initiate him into some of the 
mysteries of his craft. 

It was while thus engaged that Minnie Marston 
entered the office. The introduction took place 
as prearranged. The young girl’s modest de- 
meanor and her sweet, charming face completely 
captivated Frank Gildersleeve’s fancy. 

"You are a stranger in Boston, I believe, Miss 
Marston?” inquired Frank. 

" Yes, sir. I have been here but a few weeks.” 

"You are from Maine, I should judge ? ” 

" Not exactly, sir, though not far from it. My 
home is in New Hampshire, close by the White 
Mountains.” 


120 FRANK IN TIIE DENTIST’S OFFICE. 

” All, indeed. I have always had a great desire 
to visit that wonderful region. If it would not 
he impertinent, may I ask what induced you to 
leave such a charming rural home for the great 
city ? ” 

Minnie was silent for a moment, and when she 
spoke again there was a tremor in her voice. 

" To answer that, sir, I must tell you something 
of my home and my parents. W e are poor people, 
sir, though father owns a small farm under the 
shadow of one of the granite hills. Father was a 
minister, sir, but he has been unable to preach 
regularly. His severe lameness disables him from 
much labor. I could do little at home to help 
my dear mother and father — nothing at least by 
which I could earn anything to add to our frugal 
housekeeping, and so — and so I at last obtained 
fathers consent to answer an advertisement in one 
of the Boston papers.” 

" Then you see the Boston papers even way up 
in New Hampshire ? ” 

" Oh, yes, indeed. Tourists frequently stop in 
our vicinity, for the location is a very romantic 
and picturesque one. Oh ! sir, I wish you could 
see my home. But please excuse me. I forgot 
I was speaking to a stranger who could not be 
interested in the subject.” 

There was an unconscious but very subtle flat- 


MINNIE TELLS HER HISTORY. 


121 


tery implied in these words, and they touched the 
young man’s self-love quite pleasantly. Already 
this lovely but unsophisticated girl had forgotten 
that he was a stranger ! The seeds of a lifelong 
affection were insensibly germinating even then. 

" Interested ! ” Frank exclaimed. " Oh, indeed, 
you have strongly awakened my interest in your 
beautiful home. Pray tell me about it.” 

Minnie thus urged described in simple but elo- 
quent language the charming region in which she 
had been nurtured. Mountains upon mountains 
were the familiar objects of her childish admira- 
tion, and nestled in one of the numerous little 
valleys she pictured the moderate farm of a few 
acres which her father owned. She spoke of the 
beautiful summer skies, of the birds and flowers 
and rivers and the leaping cascades, of the grandeur 
of the winters, with their absence of all life, and 
frightful avalanches, etc., and Frank found him- 
self sharing her enthusiasm and half inclined to 
start forthwith on a pilgrimage to this rural 
shrine. 

" But we have drifted far away from the subject 
we were speaking about, Mr. Gildersleeve,’’ 
Minnie said suddenly, and with a blush. " I can 
never speak of my home but I go into rapture 
over its beautiful scenery.” 

"Some people say that familiarity with scenery 


122 


FRANK IN THE DENTIST’S OFFICE. 


breeds contempt for it. With you I see it is fai 
different. But you were speaking about answer* 
ing an advertisement. I conclude that you re-, 
ceived a favorable reply ? ” 

"Yes, I secured a situation in a store in Boston. 
Goodsenough & Company advertised for sales^ 
women, and I was fortunate enough to be selected 
as one. So, Mr. Gildersleeve, you are talking, 
you see, to only a humble shop-girl.” 

" And I am but a poor dentist, Miss Minnie,” 
he rejoined, blushing in spite of himself at the 
falsehood. " So in our social relation you and I 
are on the same level, you see, and I hope, — I 
sincerely hope, — that after a little longer ac- 
quaintance you will allow me to enroll myself 
among the number of your friends.” 

Minnie, in her ignorance of conventional cus- 
toms, and in her innocent trust in all that was 
outwardly fair and true, did not hesitate to let the 
young fellow see that she already regarded him in 
a very friendly light. 

Forceps now came out of the operating-room, 
and interrupted their pleasant iete-a-tete for the 
time, announcing that he was now ready to attend 
to Minnie. 

When the young girl left the dentist’s office 
Frank happened to be going out at the same time, 
and thus it happened that he accompanied her to 


MINNIE TELLS HER HISTORY. 


123 


the house where she boarded in common with sev- 
eral of her fellow shopmates. And it was not the 
only time Frank found himself accompanying the 
young girl thither. The intimacy thus so pleas- 
antly begun ripened gradually to a strong friend- 
ship, and eventually into a deeper sentiment on 
the part of both. 

Alas ! for the young girl’s innocent trust in a 
stranger’s honeyed words and flattering smiles ! 


CHAPTER IX. 


MINNIE AT THE THEATRE. — JERKS ON BOSTON’S FUN. 

One day Frank Gildersleeve invited Minnie 
Marston to go to the theatre. At the appointed 
time she was ready awaiting her lover, dressed in 
her best. Frank told her that he had never seen 
her looking so pretty, praised her neat attire, and 
uttered many soft flatteries that went to the very 
heart of the innocent girl. 

And those lover-like speeches were sincerely 
uttered. The young man at that moment loved 
his charming companion purely and honestly. 

The theatre was crowded. The bahts and 
music, the brilliant dresses of the ladies, the 
fairy-like scene revealed at the going up of the 
curtain, fairly intoxicated the senses of the young 
girl. 

The play was one of those which the era of the 
" Black Crook ” introduced to the stage, — a play 
splendid in its " setting,” hut in its characters, 
action, and plot appealing to the senses rather 
than to the intellect. As the curtain went up the 
stage exhibited a blaze of splendor. All that art 


JERKS ON BOSTON’S FUN. 


125 


could do was lavished in the decoration of the 
scene. A beautiful garden was presented ; the 
trees bending with luscious fruit. Flowers 
bloomed everywhere in picturesque profusion. 
The music of falling water added to the reality 
of the scene. It was a picture of fairy-land, and 
to the entranced senses of the young girl seemed 
as if birds must be hopping among the branches. 
She really fancied she could scent the odor of the 
flowers, and hear the wind softly rustling amid 
the foliage. 

The play commenced. Two figures came out 
upon the stage, — a young man and woman, ser- 
vants of the lovely princess, the heroine of the 
play. They went through a pert dialogue which 
had for its object the introduction of their mistress 
on the scene. Then came a burst of music, a 
hush of expectation on the part of the audience, 
and the princess, attended by a numerous train of 
female attendants, entered, almost as devoid of 
apparel as the first inhabitants of Eden. A storm 
of applause greeted them. But a blush mounted 
to Minnie’s cheek. The actions, the postures, the 
fantastic pirouetting , the suggestive, even wanton 
gestures, shocked and horrified the delicate mind 
of the young girl. For a single instant she gazed 
in silent wonder on the scene, and then quickly 
averted her burning face. 


126 


MINK IE AT TIIE THEATRE. 


At last she timidly raised her eyes to Frank 
Gildersleeve’s face ; but his gaze was intently 
fixed on the stage. Then she looked shyly round 
at the audience. She saw old men with their 
wives and daughters, young men and tender 
maidens, and all looking with interested eyes, 
like her lover, on the dazzling scene before them. 
She saw no modest shrinking there. But Minnio 
was sick at heart, notwithstanding. She gentbv 
touched her companion’s arm. 

" Please take me home, Frank,” she whispered. 
”1 — I do not feel very well. Pray take mo 
home ! ” 

" Impossible, Minnie,” he said, looking at her 
with an amused smile. Her flushed and downcast 
face told him at once the cause of her distress. 
"You are merely dazzled and bewildered at the 
novelty of the thing. Look round you, my dear. 
When you ’re in Pome you must do as the Romans 
do, you know. You will soon get accustomed to 
this sort of thing.” 

" Oh ! no ! no ! I cannot remain here longer > 
Frank,” she whispered. " Please — please let us 
go!” 

"But think a moment, Minnie,” he replied. 
"If we go out now, we shall draw the atten- 
tion of all these people, besides disturbing the 
play. It would be ridiculous. There, my dea?- 1 


JERKS ON BOSTON’S FUN. 


127 


Do not mind it. You will be all right in a 
minute.” 

Minnie felt the truth of what he had said. To 
go out just at the opening of the play in the face 
of that crowded assemblage would be, now she 
reflected on it, like running a gauntlet. No, she 
would stay, but she could not, would not again 
look on the stage. So she told herself ; and so 
many a young girl whose sense of modesty and 
propriety has been grievously shocked by her first 
sight at the improprieties, not to say indecencies, 
of the "play of the period,” has likewise felt. 
But Minnie could not keep her resolution. She 
was attracted to the brilliant scene in spite of her- 
self. And when the lovely heroine of the piece 
came forward and sang a simple song, but in a 
voice whose trained powers entranced every ear 
and thrilled every heart, Minnie yielded to the 
spell, and for the rest of the evening gave her 
rapt attention to the progress of the story. 

Thus the pure, the beautiful, the innocent Min- 
nie Marston, far from the protection of her coun- 
try home, bereft of the influence of parents, 
church, and friends, took her first lesson in the 
wiles of city life. Took her first steps on the 
pleasant pathway of temptation. 

Will she awake to her peril? Or will her 
unwary feet be tangled in those snares ever set 


128 


MINNIE AT THE THEATRE. 


for the unsuspecting? Snares that lure to the 
dark waters of sensuality, at last to overwhelm in 
sin, sorrow, and despair. 

Frank, after parting with Minnie at her hoard- 
ing-house, met Jonathan Jerks strolling down the 
street. 

"Hullo ! Frank; why, is that you?” exclaimed 
Jonathan, almost crushing Frank's hand in his 
friendly grasp. "Wal, how de du? Where ’ve 
you been ? Why, I swow ! hain’t seen you since 
last time ! ” 

"Oh ! I ’ve just come from the theatre,” said 
Frank. "Saw the ' Black Demon; or, The Ser- 
pent’s Doom.’ ’T was first rate, too.” 

"Wal! wal! these ’ere theatres are mighty 
mean places,” said Jerks emphatically, as if about 
to turn his crank of reform on Boston’s amuse- 
ments. "I raally believe, now, they do more n 
most anythin’ else ter git a feller started on the 
down’ard road. Yes, by hokey ! an’ a girl, too, 
for that matter. An’ then jes’ look at the shows 
they put on ! Why, great Jehosophat ! they ’re a 
disgrace ter the country, I swow ! Why, the 
drama nowadays is half naked women, an’ t’ other 
half silly nonsense. Gosh ! it ’s too all-fired, tarna- 
tion bad ! They oughter shut ’em up smack. Folks 
would get some sense then, an’ go ter meetin’s an’ 
lecters, an’ where they’d learn somethin’. Yes, 


jerks ox Boston’s fun. 


129 


sir, they oughter be shut up short, them ’s my 
opinions right down flat.” 

" Oh ! I guess the theatres won’t hurt me,” said 
Frank, in a bantering tone. "They help kill 
time, you know.” 

" Wal, I guess they du,” said Jonathan, jerking 
his head in assent. " But I tell you it ’s a plaguy 
poor way ter kill time. We hain’t got none too 
much time in this ’ere world, an’ wastin’ it in 
them theatres is all humbug. Yes, an’ then look 
at the cost of it, too. Why, I swan ! ef Boston 
don’t pay out a pile for sport an’ fun. Jes’ look ! 
there ’s ten reg’lar theatres, all a-runnin’ full blast, 
an’ about twenty irreg'lar theatres in the shape of 
spiritooal seances. You can go ter the reg’lar 
theatres on week days, an’ ter the spiritooal thea- 
tres on Sunday.” 

" Ha ! ha ! ” laughed Frank, good-humoredly. 
" That ’s a big convenience to city folks, eh ? ” 

" Wal, it ’s a tarnation shame, I swan ef ’t aint ! ” 
exclaimed Jonathan, nodding his head, and twitch- 
ing his eyes in his indignation. " Why, a’most 
the liul of Boston is a-runnin’ arter amusement, 
— theatres, horse-racin’, boat-racin’, wrestling 
matches, cat shows, an’ dog shows. Why, great 
hokey ! Boston folks seem ter be half crazy on 
amusements. Why, the pesky papers don’t seem 
ter have anythin’ else scarcely, ’cept sports an’ 
9 


130 


MINNIE AT THE TH EATJUE. 


theatricals. They give a couple o’ columns to an 
interview with a pedestrian, an’ about six lines 
ter notice a sermon. Gosh all hemlock ! Don’t 
wonder there ’s so many fellers a loafin’ round an’ 
hangin’ on their aunts for a livin’.” 

"You’re right, Jerks,” said Frank. "Fellow 
can’t afford to patronize theatre and shows unless 
he ’s got money.” 

"No, sirree ! Not much,” returned Jerks. "I 
believe in work — good, solid work. But great 
Joshua Pease ! ef there ain't a big caboodle of 
young sprigs a- wastin’ their time on amusements, 
an’ spongin’ their bread an’ cake outer their folks. 
They ought ter be made ter work. Put a hoe in 
their paws, an’ say, e Now scratch for yourself, an’ 
earn your own grub.’ Why, there was one feller 
I knew. Minister’s son, too. Used ter spend all 
his time ter these tarnation old shows an’ thea- 
tres. Would spend his last quarter ter go ter 
the theatre, ef he had ter sleep in the station- 
house. Sure ter have a cigar, even ef he went 
without his breakfast ter git it. Gosh ! wa’ n’t 
he an all-fired fool ! ” 

And Jonathan twisted himself about and oddly 
showed his intense disgust. 

"Yes, sir, I tell you what! The Legislature 
oughter pass a law ag’in sech pesky critters. 
O lighter say no man shall spend his time a-loaf- 


JERKS ON BOSTON’S FUN. 


131 


in’ ’round theatres an’ shows while spongin’ his 
bread an’ board. No, sir ! I tell you no man 
should play tramp who is too all-fired honest 
ter work, an’ too lazy ter steal ! An’ no man 
oughter smoke more ’n ten cigars a day, either, 
who is a-livin’ on his aunt. They ’re followin’ up 
the Scripter rayther too cl us — ' Go to the ant, thou 
sluggard .’ But I rayther reckon they go ter the 
wrong ant. They spell it a-u-n-t. T’ other kind 
would kick ’em out in no time. They are too 
tarnation smart ter stand any loafin’ ’round them , 
I can tell you ! ” 

" Ha ! ha ! ” laughed Frank. " You ’re right, 
Jerks. They’re too cute for that. Well, good 
night. Hope you ’ll turn the crank on the Hub, 
and make things fly lively.” 

" Wal, guess I ’ll do it, or bust ! ” said Jona- 
than solemnly. 

And Frank, after shaking Jerks cordially by 
the hand, wended his way to his home on Beacon 

Hill. 


CHAPTEE X. 


FRANK AND FORCEPS AT FARO BANK. — JERKS 
“ TURNING THE CRANK.” 

One evening Dr. Forceps sat in his office when 
Frank Gildersleeve came in. 

"Hallo, Dick!” said the young man, "wlmt's 
up to-night ? Are n’t you stopping rather late ? ” 

" Well, I thought I would do a little work this 
evening, but I don’t feel much like it. Sit down 
and help yourself to a cigar. And how goes your 
suit with the fair Minnie ? ” 

Frank wais silent for a minute or two. At last 
he said, — 

"Dick, Minnie Marston is one girl out of a 
thousand. By Jove ! If she only belonged to 
upper tendom ! If she only moved in our society !” 

"Perhaps if she did she would not be such a 
paragon as you make her out to be,” answered 
Forceps. 

" Look out, Dick. That ’s a slur on me and mine. 
But I don’t believe it. Minnie would grace any 
station. And in any station I believe she would 
still be the same noble, high-minded, and virtuous 


JERKS "TURNING THE CRANK. 


133 


girl. She is a treasure of innocence, purity, and 
good-principle. We are scoundrels, Dick For- 
ceps, to be concocting these schemes for under- 
mining her virtue.” 

"Pshaw, my boy ! Every one has a price. If 
you fail in all other means, a little judicious flat- 
tery will bring her to your feet.” 

" Then Minnie Marston is an exception to the 
rule. I tell you she is incorruptible.” 

" Don’t you believe it,” said Forceps, knocking 
the ashes from his cigar. "Every woman has 
vanity, and she is no exception to the rest of the 
sex. But a new idea occurs to me, Frank.” 

"Well, let us hear it.” 

"You must take Minnie to a fortune-teller, — a 
clairvoyant. I know one that for a few dollars 
will fall into our views and cook up a nice little 
dish for our young friend from the rural districts. 
By Jove ! It ’s the best thing yet ! ” 

" I am willing to try it ; but rely on it, Dick, 
the plan will fail like all the rest.” 

"I don’t know about that,” said the dentist. 
"If it should not succeed, however, there is a last 
resort — one that won't fail ! ” 

" And what is that ? ” 

" No matter now. Sufficient unto the day is 
the evil thereof, you know. Let us try the clair- 
voyant first. Best assured, however, with one 


134 FRANK AND FORCEPS AT FARO BANK. 

thing, Frank, Minnie Marston shall yet he yours 
by fair means or — ” 

Forceps did not finish the sentence. He had 
gone further than he intended, and changing the 
subject, he said, — 

" But let us drop the matter for to-night. 
What do you say to going round town and seeing 
the elephant?” 

" You showed him to me pretty effectually the 
other night when you took me through the North- 
End dance-houses,” said Frank. " I got enough of 
that elephant for one while.” 

"I will show you a quadruped of another color 
to-night, then. What do you say to the ' tiger,’ 
now, instead of the elephant? You have never 
seen the game of faro played, have you?” 

"No. My education, you see, has been sadly 
neglected in that line. I ’d like to behold the ani- 
mal, though. But faro requires money, I take 
it?” 

"Generally — yes,” said Forceps, dryly. 

" Luckily the ' governor ’ tossed me a couple of 
hundreds to put in the bank. Ahem ! If I de- 
posit it in a faro-bank, that will be carrying out 
instructions in letter if not in spirit, eh? ” 

And the young man laughed at his facetious- 
ness, and Forceps laughed still louder. The den- 
tist’s cue was to flatter his young dupe to the top 


JERKS " TURNING THE CRANK.” 135 

of his bent ; for Frank's friendship was a mine of 
gold to him, and Dick Forceps required a goodly 
supply of the precious metal or its equivalent for 
his growing needs. 

"Come along then,” said the dentist, rising. 
" W e ’ll go and buck the tiger as long as the 
money holds out. The royal animal holds forth 
in a good many places in Boston ; but I know 
one of his favorite haunts, where we shall find the 
biggest nobs and swells of Boston. There you 
can become acquainted with some of the very 
saints, philosophers, and the elite of the modern 
Athens. Don’t be astonished at anything you see 
there.” 

Dr. Forceps conducted his young companion 
to one of the most celebrated club-houses of Bos- 
ton. Ostensibly a club-house ; really a fashion- 
able gambling resort. 

"You have made me your 'guide, philosopher, 
and friend,’ Frank,” said Forceps, " and I ’m 
bound to put you straight through the alphabet of 
city life. There ’s nothing like it for a young man 
just entering upon life. It ought to be an essen- 
tial part of the training of a young fellow in your 
sphere of society When you begin to grow old, 
then it will be time enough to haul your bark up 
into the wind ; but youth is the season for enjoy- 
ment. You know the old song — 


136 FRANK AND FORCEPS AT FARO BANK. 

4 Go it while you ’re young, hoys, 

For when you get old you can’t.’ ” 

It was through such pernicious teachings as 
these that Frank Gildersleeve was gradually slip- 
ping down the steep descent of vice. He was 
like many a youth brought up amid the alluring 
temptations of the city, without moral ballast and 
with an unlimited supply of money furnished by 
the injudicious liberality of doting parents. How 
many times in after life would he look back upon 
these first steps in sin, and curse with bitterest 
maledictions the man whom he now regarded as 
the truest of friends ; the man who was surely 
leading him down to destruction ! 

Did no thought of Minnie Marston ever occur 
to Frank Gildersleeve in the midst of his dissipa- 
tions? Did not the influence of her love, her. 
purity, her fervent piety, seek to draw him back 
from the deadly brink of vice? Yes, many, many 
times ! But there was an evil genius forever at 
his side in the person of Richard Forceps, whose 
influence was more potent still. And the Evil 
Genius triumphed over the Good Angel ! 

The scene in the gambling-house was one to 
dazzle and enchant a youthful imagination. Soon 
young Gildersleeve partook of the excitement 
which he saw painted on the faces of the players. 
Forceps explained the principles of the game, 


JERKS 'TURNING THE CRANK. 


137 


and taking out some money made several small 
bets. He won invariably, and Frank was easily 
induced to follow his companion’s example. The 
luck which it is said always accompanies a new 
beginner did not desert Frank Gildersleeve that 
night. Long after midnight he and the dentist 
remained at the club-house, and when they left 
Frank had doubled the sum of money that he 
originally commenced with. 

"Here, Dick,” he said, giving Forceps a hand- 
ful of bills, "I’ll go shares with you. You were 
not so lucky as I was. I don’t need the money for 
anything particular, and if I did the governor will 
come down with the spondulicks whenever I ask 
him, you know.” 

Coming out of the faro bank, Frank and For- 
ceps met Jonathan Jerks on the sidewalk, look- 
ing up at the blinded windows of the house. 

"I swan ! Frank, is that you?” cried Jonathan, 
grasping Frank by the hand. "Why, great 
Joshua ! who ’d a-thought ter see you a-comin’ out 
of this ’ere den. Why, my boy, d’ ye know that ’s 
one of the biggest gambling hells in Boston?” 

"Hullo! Jerks, that you?” greeted Frank, 
cordially. " How are you ? So you ’re going to 
reform the Hub, eh? Well, you’ve got your 
hands full.” 

" Wal, I have got a pretty hefty job,” replied 


138 FRANK AND FORCEPS AT FARO RAISK. 

Jonathan, nodding his head. "But I ’ll tackle it. 

I ’ll turn the crank on to ’em an’ make the splin- 
ters fly. But I say,” whispering in Frank's ear, 
"that ’s a tarnation mean place. Hope you hain’t 
lost no money nor nuthin’.” 

"Not much,” said Frank, laughing. "Made a 
couple of hundred instead.” 

And Frank showed Jerks a large roll of bills. 

" Wal ! wal ! I ’m sorry for } r ou ! ” said Jerks, 
looking as solemn as an owl. " So they let you 
win a little, eh, jes’ ter lead you on? Oh ! They 
know you ’ye got money, an’ they ’re bound ter 
git it, too. Wal, I only wished you ’d lost, now, 
’cause it might have teached you a good lesson. 
But you ’re sure ter lose it in the end. You can 
rely on that. They don't run these ’ere banks ter 
throw away money, not much. Why, land 
a-massy ! there was a man I knew — a big mer- 
chant — got pulled into a gambling den right here 
in Montgomery Place. Oh ! They soft soaped 
him nice, I tell ye. ' Ah ! won’t you take dinner 
— ’t won't cost nothing,’ they said. Gave him 
high-tone stuff, best wines an’ liquors, an' did n't 
charge him a red cent. Wal, sir, the ropers-in 
tackled him : c Say, did you see that feller win 
$600 last night ? ’ they said. An’ they told over 
what piles of cash they ’d raked in at faro. Why, 
they got the pesky feller so excited by tellin’ how 


139 


JERKS ” TURNING THE CRANK.” 

easy it was to win, that he went whack off an’ 
lost $20 the first lick.” 

Jonathan broke into a laugh and rolled his eyes 
and twisted himself about as if highly tickled at 
the merchant’s poor luck. 

" Wal, of course he wa’n’t goin’ ter lose money 
like that,” continued Jerks, with a wink. " He 
could n’t afford it. So he planked down $100. 
Was a-goin’ ter git back his money and $80 
besides, accordin’ ter his reckonin’. But the tar- 
nation thing did n’t work right. Gosh ! he lost 
that, too ! Wal, sir, that great goose hung on, 
tooth an’ nail, till he’d lost $15,000, — every 
plaguy copper he had, an’ then went ter losing 
his creditors’ money. Slid through $10,000 in 
about the fastest time on record, an’ brought up 
plumb without a cent ter his name. Moment 
he’d lost every red, he got his eyes open, of 
course. Wal, then he sailed in an’ tried another 
racket. Sued the boss an’ another feller, the two 
biggest gamblers in Boston. Wal, finally they 
settled the thing by lettin’ him have $700, ef he’d 
git up an’ git, an’ never come back ter Boston 
agin. Great Jehosophat ! When he’d got $700 
outer’ll the $25,000 he ’d fooled away gamblin’, he 
felt like a fightin’ cock — he’d made somethin’ 
outer the gamblers arter all ! ” 

"Oh, well,” said Frank, "I guess I’ll know 


140 FRANK AND FORCEPS AT FARO BANK. 

when to stop. When they get as much money as 
that out of me, they ’ll know it.” 

"Yes,” said Forceps, "Frank is a little too 
shrewd for them.” 

" Wal, sir, you’ll have ter wake up mighty 
early in the momin’ ter get ahead of the gam- 
blers. They’ll skin you out of your eye-teeth, 
a’most. Gosh ! There was a young Connecticut 
feller came ter Harvard ter git edicated. His dad 
had the cash an’ wanted his son ter know some- 
thin’. Wal, the young sprig used ter loaf ’round 
the Parker House — o’ course you know that’s 
the headquarters, as ’twere, of Harvard — an’ got 
ter goin’ rayther steep. Got roped into the high- 
toned gamblin’ den on Beacon Street. Wal, I 
tell you there wa’ n’t nothing scarey about him. 
He ’d ' buck the tiger ’ to his last cent, an’ then 
borrow money ter keep at it. Jes’ as leave spend 
his friends’ money as his own — rayther, I guess. 
Wal, pop kept a-sendin’ him money like all Jeru- 
salem ! An’ the young chip kept a-writin’ back : 
' O pa ! the money you sent I ’ve lost. Oh dear ! 
please send some more.’ 

"Wal, he didn’t lie; he had lost the money, 
only he forgot ter say anythin’ about faro. Dad 
sent an’ sent, until he began ter think the young 
blood could lose money a plaguy sight quicker ’n 
he could earn it. Why, the cheeky fellow even 

i x 

I 


JERKS 'TURNING TIIE CRANK. 


141 


borrowed money from a tailor an’ told him ter 
send a fat bill for clothes which he had n’t had ter 
his dad. By hokey ! the old man couldn’t stand 
it any longer. Edication was a~ costin’ a leetle 
too much ter suit him. Wal, he come ter Boston, 
found the young feller, paid his debts, an’ took 
him home by the fust train.” 

"Ha, ha!” laughed Frank. "Guess he found 
the young fellow knew a sight too much, eh? ” 

" Or perhaps he thought he could educate him 
cheaper at home,” put in Forceps, with a smile. 
"Well, I presume he’s only a type of hundreds.” 

"Yes, sir, you hit it smack now,” said Jerks 
with emphasis. " There ’s any quantity of young 
fellers,” looking at Frank significantly, " that ’s 
a-going it mighty fast, an’ if they ain’t careful, 
they’ll fetch up mighty short.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE SIBYL INVOKED. — MINNIE HAS HER FORTUNE 
TOLD. 

"Come, Minnie,” said Frank, a few nights after 
the visit to the faro bank, " what do you say to 
having your fortune told? Young ladies are gen- 
erally anxious to know what the future holds in 
store for them, I believe.” 

"I hardly know what to say, Frank. Perhaps 
there is no harm in it, but if I was at home I do 
not think my friends would approve of my con- 
sulting a fortune-teller.” 

"O, your friends are too straitlaced, Minnie. 
Perhaps they would not have approved of your 
going to the theatre, and yet you saw nothing 
very wrong there.” 

"I fear your ideas of wrong and mine, Frank, 
are somewhat different,” said Minnie. "I am 
country bred and have always been taught to 
avoid the very appearance of evil. But of this I 
feel sure, that you would not ask me to go to any 
place where you would hesitate to take a sister.” 

"Assuredly not, dear Minnie. You mil go with 
me, then ? ” 


MINNIE HAS HER FORTUNE TOLD. 


143 


Minnie’s curiosity was aroused to such a degree 
and her confidence in Frank so complete, that she 
raised no further objections, and consented to 
accompany him. 

Poor moth, how thou dost flutter and play 
about the candle that is so soon to singe thy wings. 
God help thee! poor girl. Oh, that He would put 
it into the heart of brother or friend to come and 
rescue thee from the fascination of the serpent, to 
break the spell and draw thee out of danger 
ere the coils are wrapped around thee and the 
envenomed fangs fasten on thy purity. Pure 
maiden, fair flower, sweet bud of innocence, little 
dost thou know of the storm that is darkening the 
horizon of thy young life ! Little dost thou know 
that clouds are gathering above thy head ! 
Heaven guard thee ; heaven help thee ; for the 
hour of thy trial draws near ! 

" This way, sir, and madam ; this way, step 
softly ; miss is in a trance. She will be out of it 
soon and then you will be attended to.” 

So said the Abigail of the fortune-teller to 
Frank and Minnie, who, heeding the injunction 
" Don’t King,” pasted on the side of the door, had 
ascended the stairs to the landing of the second 
floor. 

They were not kept waiting long, and soon 


144 


THE SIBYL INVOKED. 


were ushered into a room where in the depths of 
an arm-chair sat the seer, or the seeress rather, 
for the prophet was a woman. 

Yes, a woman, and one who aimed to be 
thought young ; but as an aimer she would never 
have taken rank as a sharp shooter, for notwith- 
standing the paint and the powder, the ruffles and 
frizzes, the "idiot fringe” and the paste and 
plated jewelry, the lines on the brow, the crows’ 
feet under the eyes, the scraggy neck and attenu- 
ated bust, all told a tale of Time. 

Her eyes met those of Frank with a quick 
glance of recognition and intelligence ; but other- 
wise she received him as a perfect stranger. 

The clairvoyant smiled benevolently on Minnie. 

"If you have come to have your fortune told/’ 
she said, "my task will be easy; for the future 
can hold nothing but good in store for such a 
sweet face as yours, young lady.” 

Minnie blushed and said, somewhat impatiently, 
"I did not come here to be flattered, madam. I 
came to have my fortune told.” 

The sibyl dropped her eyelids, and rubbing one 
hand over the other, said, — 

"Well, then, my dear, what do you prefer, — 
the tea-grounds, cards, or clairvoyance ? ” 

Minnie looked to Frank for instructions. 

" O hang it,” said he, " let ’s have all three. If a 


MINNIE HAS HER FORTUNE TOLD. 


145 


thing ’s worth doing at all it ’s worth doing well. 
Never mind the cost ; go ahead. Give us the tea- 
grounds first, then the cards, and then you can 
disembody yourself and let the spirits take pos- 
session of you, and we ’ll hear what they have to 
say about it.” 

A cup was brought containing a little tea and 
tea grounds. 

Minnie was directed by the fortune-teller to 
shake the cup gently and then invert it on a table, 
keeping her hand for a moment on the bottom. 

The directions were complied with. 

The seeress then took the cup in her hand and 
gazed into it for a moment. 

"A young man and a young woman,” she said 
at last. "Ah ! I see. I see ; happy, happy love ! 
Some little clouds in the sky, but they quickly 
disappear. Yes ; now the sky is clear. Ah ! 
what is this? Bridesmaids, groomsmen, and a 
handsome couple ! Ha ! ha ! That ’s what the 
cup tells, but I may be wrong. Say, am I?” 
drooping her languishing eyelashes over the crows 
feet, and turning to Minnie. 

Minnie looked at Frank in surprise. 

"By Jove!” exclaimed he. "You’re not far 
out of the way ! Try the cards.” 

The cards were shuffled, and of course turned 
up the young man and young woman, and the 
10 


146 


THE SIBYL INVOKED. 


bridesmaids and the groomsmen, and all sur- 
rounded by the same auspicious circumstances. 

But the seeress capped the climax when she 
went into a trance, in which condition she was 
assisted by her Abigail, who put the questions to 
which she made replies. 

Abigail. " Whose spirit has possession of the 
body of my mistress ? ” 

Seeress. " The spirit of Hahahoopahoop, the 
great medicine man of the Six Nations.” 

Abigail. " Do you know the future? ” 

Seeress. " I do ; hurry, for your mistress will 
be greatly exhausted if you keep me long.” 

Abigail. "Who are these persons here?” 

Seeress. " Two sincere lovers who wish to 
pierce the veil of the future.” 

Minnie stole a blushing look at Frank. 

Abigail. "Will you reveal what the future 
has in store for them ? ” 

Seeress. "These two shall be wed according: 
to the laws of man, although there is no need of 
it, for they are now wedded in the sight of heaven. 
They are as much man and wife now as they 
ever will be, for they love and trust one another. 
Marriage is nothing; it is merely a recognition, a 
compliance with human custom. We in the spirit 
world do not consider marriage or the ceremony 
of marriage as a tie to bind two loving hearts. 


MINNIE HAS HER FORTUNE TOLD. 


147 


When a couple mate, they mate, marriage or no 
marriage. Were these two to live as man and 
wife, without any marriage ceremony, they would 
be as pure in the sight of heaven as if they were 
married by five hundred priests or ministers or 
an army of justices of the peace. Marriage 
is a curse. Two hearts mating is heaven’s law. 
Do the birds marry? Those sweet songsters of 
heaven who fill the air with their melody and 
make all nature rejoice. Does the lion who roams 
the forest and makes all other beasts tremble with 
his roarings marry? No; he mates as the birds 
mate ; takes his partner for life and sticks true to 
her, forages for, protects her, fights for her, and 
dies for her ! Love is all ! Love is mighty ! Love 
conquers everything ! ” 

The sibyl paused as if for breath, and then 
continued : — 

" The young man here understands all this, 
appreciates it and approves of it. For he has 
been educated in a liberal school. He is a tran- 
scend entalist in religion ; he believes in the divinity 
of culture, despises all forms and ceremonies and 
only acts in accordance with the dictates of an 
approving conscience. He has weighed orthodoxy 
in the balance and found it wanting. He has 
studied the narrow-minded sects who strain at a 
gnat and swallow a camel. He is disgusted with 


148 


THE SIBYL INVOKED 


them and strikes out for himself. He has found 
the open sea and now floats pleasantly along, an 
honor to his friends and an example to society. 
With the young lady, — beautiful, pure, and good, 
an angel in human guise, — it is different. She 
is hedged in and fenced about with the gloom of 
puritanism, the opaque atmosphere of orthodoxy. 
Everything that savors of liberality, of liberty, of 
culture, offends her preconceived notions, outrages 
]ier deeply seated principles, and causes her, like 
the chased ostrich which hides its head in the 
desert sands, to fly for refuge to and hide herself 
behind a text of Scripture or an aphorism such as 
* Get thee behind me, Satan,’ or, like Bunyan, 
putting her fingers in her ears and crying * Eternal 
life ! eternal life ! ’ Poor girl ! she is rather to 
be pitied than blamed. Remember her training, 
the gloom that has surrounded her from child- 
hood, the fact that she has been gorged with the 
principles of the idiotic and austere people who 
burned witches and persecuted Quakers. 

"But enough of this. The two will be one 
according to human law as they are now one in 
heart ; the young man out of his deep love for 
her will sink all his intelligent notions to satisfy 
her scruples. But should he not, they are still 
one in the sight of heaven, and no earthly power 
can separate them, nothing can drag them 


MINNIE HAS HER FORTUNE TOLD. 


149 


asunder ; he is hers and she is his, blessing on 
her sweet face ! Adieu. ” 

The seeress slowlv r came to life and g-azed about 
her with a vacant stare. 

"You are very much exhausted,” said the 
Abigail. 

"And I am very much disgusted,” said Minnie, 
indignantly rising to her feet. " Frank, take me 
home. I know you cannot approve of this blas- 
phemy.” 

Frank hung his head sheepishly, silently gave 
Minnie his arm, and they passed from the house. 

"If that was a spirit,” said Minnie, "it said you 
approved of it all.” 

" It is very strange,” said Frank, cautiously. 

" Strange ! You surely do not indorse what 
that woman said ? ” 

" Perhaps not. And yet she told so much that 
was true that I hardly know what to think,” said 
Frank, dubiously. 

Minnie looked at him in surprise. 

" Surely,” she said, "you have no doubts as to 
her wicked ideas about marriage ? ” 

" Why not?” asked the young man, raising his 
eyes and looking at her steadily. 

"Because,” said Minnie, making an attempt to 
withdraw her arm from his, and failing to do so, 
bursting into tears, — " Because, if such is the 
case, X must give up your company entirely.” 


150 


THE SIEYL INVOKED. 


Frank Gildersleeve saw at once how vain this 
precious scheme had been. Minnie had stood the 
test. It was plain that her principles were not to 
be corrupted. Both the dentist and the dupe he 
was leading to ruin had underestimated the young 
girl’s strength of character. 

The danger of losing her entirely, the fear that 
she would give up his company as she had threat- 
ened, alarmed the young man. His passions had 
been strongly stirred by her beauty. He loved 
her, though his love had in it no element of purity, 
truth, or honor. So he said hastily, — 

"You mistake me, dear Minnie. I was only 
trying you. Forgive me, my dear. If I had 
dreamed of what has occurred, I certainly would 
never have taken you to that place. No, my 
dearest Minnie, I do not believe that creature’s 
words, excepting her prophecy concerning our 
marriage. That at least I hope you are not 
opposed to.” 

Minnie gave him a blushing answer that at once 
reassured her lover. Nevertheless many harass- 
ing doubts perplexed the young girl. A name- 
less dread of some threatening danger filled her 
soul. Her serious look and silent manner made 
Frank uncomfortable, and he tried to cheer her 
and sought in vain to learn what it was that 
troubled her. But Minnie would not reveal her 
secret apprehensions. 


MINNIE HAS HER FORTUNE TOLD. 


151 


Minnie reached her room sad at heart, sadder 
than when she had gone home from the theatre. 
But as she was dressing her hair for the night, there 
came to her mind the air and the words of w Sweet 
Hour of Prayer.” She softly sang the hymn and 
then knelt and prayed fervently that the Lord 
would keep her in the right way ; and then she 
went to bed, and when slumber had closed her 
eyes, and her fair head lay on her beautifully 
rounded arm, the tears lay on her blooming 
cheeks, like dew-drops sparkling on a moss rose. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A DIABOLICAL PLOT. — FRANK ON HIS KNEES. 

"The fortune-telling scheme was a failure,” said 
Frank to Forceps, next day in the dentist’s office. 
"Minnie would yield neither to the teacup, the 
cards, nor the clairvoyance. By Jove ! I ’ve a 
good mind to marry her sub rosa. Would marry 
her to-day if I thought my mother would receive 
her.” 

"Your mother would as soon you married a 
girl from out the slums, as Minnie,” said Dr. For- 
ceps. " She would think the Gildersleeve family 
disgraced forever if you carried this country girl 
to her as your wife.” 

"Is she not good, pure, and beautiful, — a tit 
wife for a President of the United States?” said 
Frank. 

"Maybe for a President of the United States, 
but not a fit wife for the son of one of the oldest 
families on Beacon Hill.” 

"Then I’ll go no further with it. I am wearied 
out. ' Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.’ ” 


FRANK ON HIS KNEES. 


153 


" Pshaw ! 'Faint heart ne’er won fair lady,’ you 
know. Come, don’t be despondent, Frank. We 
will try other means. You are infatuated with 
the girl’s beauty. I know you, my boy ! You 
could never resolve to give her up, eh?” 

" No ! I love Minnie Marston,” exclaimed 
Frank, fervently. " She must, she shall be mine ! ” 

" Good, I see you mean business. Now listen 
to me.” 

The doctor whispered a word or two in Frank’s 
ear. 

The latter started to his feet and his face flushed 
hotly. 

" Oh ! It is villanous ! ” he exclaimed. 

The doctor coolly knocked the ashes from his 
cigar, and taking another puff, said, — 

" It is the only plan, and it is a sure one.” 

At this moment Minnie entered. She ex- 
changed greetings with Frank, and bowed to the 
doctor. Forceps smiled in return, and said to the 
young girl, — 

"I was just telling my partner, Miss Marston, 
about your case. I am unexpectedly summoned 
away, and shall have to leave him to perform the 
operation. Unless,” he added, " you would prefer 
to call another day ? ” 

But Minnie did not care to wait, and so in- 
formed the dentist. 


154 


A DIABOLICAL PLOT. 


" Very well,” returned Forceps, " Frank is very 
skilful, and I will then leave you to his charge. 
You have never before taken ether, I think you 
said the other day ? ” 

Minnie replied No, that she had not. 

" Then you have a very delightful sensation to 
experience,” said Forceps, with his pleasant smile. 
He then pretended to give Frank certain direc- 
tions and took his leave. 

" Have no fear, Minnie,” said Frank, as he 
prepared to administer the ether. " Kemember, 
you are with one who loves you above everything 
else in the world.” 

" Oh ! I have perfect confidence in you, dear 
Frank,” were Minnie’s last words, before she 
lapsed into insensibility. 

When Minnie Marston awoke to consciousness, 
she found herself reclining in the dentist’s chair, 
Frank standing near by, trembling, downcast. 
His guilty face and her own sensations led her in 
an instant to a realization of what had occurred 
during her sleep. The truth, the awful, hideous 
truth, broke upon her startled senses. She gave 
utterance to a cry that smote the young villain to 
the heart. 

"Oh! Wretch! Wretch! What have you 
done ? ” she cried. 

"Forgive me, Minnie! On my bended knees 


FRANK ON HIS KNEES. 


155 


I implore your forgiveness ! ” pleaded Frank Gil- 
dersleeve. 

But she heeded him not, and without a word, 
sought to rush by him and reach the door. Her 
intention was manifest in her horror-stricken face. 
But Frank intercepted her and turned the key in 
the lock. 

"Stop, Minnie,” he cried, frantically. "Curb 
your resentment. As God hears me, I will do 
you no further harm.” 

"No further harm!” she answered, — "no fur- 
ther harm ! Is there any further harm you could 
do me, Frank Gildersleeve ? Take that knife I 
see lying there ! Plunge it into my heart ! Mur- 
der me as you have slain my honor, my innocence ! 
If you will do that, I may forgive you ! ” 

" Oh ! Minnie ! I did not mean to wrong you. 
I was overcome by your loveliness. Your beauty 
intoxicated me to madness. Oh ! I knew not 
what I did. Say, oh ! say you forgive me, Min- 
nie ! I would give my life freely to atone for 
this cruel deed ! ” 

" Your life ! As if your miserable life could 
wipe out the stain upon my name. As if oceans 
of blood could wash out the degradation you have 
heaped upon my soul ! ” 

Then in a piteous tone, — 

" Oh ! Frank ! Frank ! was it for this you won 


A DIABOLICAL FLOT. 


156 

my love? Was it for this all your soft speeches 
and honeyed words were coined ? Oh ! God ! Oh ! 
God ! My punishment is more than I can bear ! " 

" But I will repair the wrong, Minnie,” said the 
trembling Frank. " I will do anything you say ! 
I love you, — oh ! I never loved you so much as 
now ! ” 

" Dare not speak of love to me, Frank Gilder- 
sleeve. Does the mother murder her offspring 
out of love ? Does the husband strike down the 
w T ife because of his love? Does the lover pollute 
and destroy that which he loves ? Never ! Only 
a brutal, heartless monster, without one single 
spark of human feeling in his bosom, would so 
misuse a poor, friendless, and unprotected girl.” 
And overcome by her feelings, Minnie burst into 
tears, and sobbed aloud. 

Then rising in the might of her faith, she 
cried, — 

"Friendless, do I say? No! no! I am not 
friendless. I have God and justice on my side. 
There is a power that shall make you tremble ! I 
will denounce you to the whole world. You shall 
feel all the terrors which you have made me suf- 
fer ! I will cry my wrongs out in the very street ! 
People will point to you as to some venomous 
beast. I will rouse the hue and cry of public de- 
testation against you ! You shall be driven out 


FRANK ON HIS KNEES. 


157 


of society ! Scouted and driven out as the lepers 
were of old ! Stand aside, I say ! Do not dare 
to stop me ! Move away from that door ! Or 
you shall know what it is to rouse even so weak a 
girl as I am to desperation ! ” 

Frank Gildersleeve, physically brave, when 
moved by a worthy sentiment, trembled now like a 
coward and a dastard, before the girl whom he had 
driven to such wild frenzy. 

" Minnie ! dear Minnie ! ” he said piteously. 
" Pray hear me. I knew not what I was doing. 
Oh ! Have pity on me ! Think of the disgrace, 
the shame you condemn me to ! You do not 
know all ! Exposure would be worse than death 
to me. Alas ! I have deceived you. I am not a 
poor man ; not a poor dentist, but the only son of 
a proud and wealthy family. Should my father 
know of this he would disinherit and disown me. 
All my prospects would be gone, all my hopes in 
life ruined. Oh ! Minnie ! Be merciful ! Be 
merciful, and forgive me ! ” 

The young girl passionately exclaimed, — 

" Were you merciful to me ? Did you think of 
my youth, my sex, my helplessness ! Could not 
the sight of my powerless condition appeal to your 
manhood? Did no spark of human feeling plead 
for my innocence? Could no thought of your 
mother — of your sister, if you have a sister — 
restrain you from your wicked purpose ? Could 


158 


A DIABOLICAL PLOT. 


not my trust in you — my perfect trust in your 
love, truth, and honor — touch your heart?” 

Frank Gildersleeve shook like an aspen as she 
went on. Words of fire leaped to her lips. In 
her maddened feelings she — the delicate girl, 
whose tongue was a stranger to aught but the 
purest language, whose heart had never known 
anything but the softest emotions — she heaped 
upon him the bitterest, withering maledictions, 
called down the curse of heaven on his head, 
giving to her tones such a frightful energy and 
blasting intensity, that to him she seemed like an 
avenging angel, and filled him with a terror that 
caused him to quake like one in mortal dread. 

” Minnie! In Heaven’s name, be calm!” he 
cried, still on his knees, and seeking to take her 
hand. 

" Calm ! ” cried the young girl, her excitement 
rising higher and higher and her eyes flashing 
wildly, "I will not be calm! Wretch! viper! 
robber of innocence ! Your crime shall not go 
unpunished ! You shall feel the weight of the 
law ! I will not spare you ! No ! No ! It would 
be a sin, a crime against heaven ! The cause of 
truth, of innocence, of sacred justice cries out to 
me aloud and bids me spare you not ! No ! No ! 
In prison shall you suffer ! In prison expiate 
your foul crime ! ” 

She stood glowering over him like an inspired 


FRANK ON HIS KNEES. 


159 


prophetess, invoking the thunders of heaven on 
his head. The guilty man looked upon her, and 
seeing no hope of mercy in that hardened, flashing 
countenance, he cried, abjectly, — 

" Oh ! my God ! my God ! My life, my honor, 
reputation, — all are in your hands. God pardon 
my sin, since I can hope nothing from you 1” 

Then starting to his feet, as if seeing a vision, 
he cried, — 

" I submit ! I yield to inexorable fate ! Hor- 
rors ! Horrors ! Already the prison cell opens 
to my sight ! The iron bars shut me out from 
the light of day ! I hear my mother’s frantic 
moans ! My sister’s — my little Gertrude’s fren- 
zied cries ! Alas ! Alas ! I am to be the inmate 
of that horrible place ! Chained like a wild beast ! 
Deprived of God’s bright suushine ! Bereft of 
every comfort ! Clad in felon’s garb ! An out- 
cast ! A pariah ! Never to look my fellows 
openly in the face ! I, Frank Gildersleeve, son 
of wealth and honored name ! Great Heavens ! 
Can it be ! Alas ! It must be ! I read it in your 
eyes, implacable girl ! ” he went on, sorrowfully 
turning to his victim. 

" But oh ! Minnie ! I have one request to make, 
— one last request ! It is this : that you pray 
for me ! Here, I humble myself at your feet. 
Here I ask, implore it! When next Sunday — 


160 


A DIABOLICAL PLOT. 


Easter Sunday, set apart in commemoration of 
Him who rose from the dead ! — when you enter 
the sanctuary, and amid the perfume of flowers 
and anthems of praise rising like- incense to the 
Throne of Mercy and Grace — as you prayerfully 
bow and ask mercy for your sins, think, Minnie, 
oh ! think of him whom you have condemned to 
loneliness and despair, shut up within stone walls ! 
Exiled from his kind ! A prey to wasting miser}' 
and remorse ! Without a friend ! Without a 
prayer ! Without a hope ! ” 

Minnie heard this touching appeal with con- 
tending emotions. At first with disdain, then 
with trembling wonder, and at last with a bosom 
throbbing with pity. He saw this, and hope sud- 
denly fired his drooping spirits. He clasped his 
hands in wild appeal, half starting to his feet. 

"You are moved, your heart is not all stone ! ” 
he cried. " Oh ! Minnie ! Minnie ! Save me ! 
Heed the voice that is pleading at your heart. 
Save me ! Save me ! In God’s dear name, save 
me from a felon’s fate ! ” 

She could not speak at once. Her voice was 
choked with sobs. At last, with an effort she 
crushed down her emotion and said faintly, and 
oh ! so sadly, -— 

"Frank Gildersleeve, for your sake I would 
have laid down my life. You know not the 


FRANK ON IIIS KNEES. 


161 


depth, the sacrificing power of woman’s love ! 
Ay ! my life I would have given for your happi- 
ness. But not even for you would I sacrifice that 
most precious thing to woman — that which is 
dearer than life itself — my honor ! Oh ! Frank 
Gildersleeve ! Though you have wronged me, 
stolen the very jewel of my soul, made me a 
thing of horror and contempt even to myself, — . 
yet my heart pleads for you. I ought to despise 
and hate you. But God help me ! I still love 
you ! Do not then drive me out of myself ! Do 
not put in jeopardy the love I have for you. Save 
yourself — save me! Redeem the evil you have 
wrought. Swear to me that you will remove the 
stain your evil passion has fixed upon me. Make 
me your wife, — shield me from the contempt and 
execration of the world, of my parents and friends ; 
give me that which you have promised to give 
me time and again, — the right to hold up my 
head and look all mankind in the face ! Make 
me an honest woman ! Marry me. Then, and 
not till then, will I forgive you my wrong ! ” 

" I will make you my wife, Minnie ! ” exclaimed 
Frank, deeply moved. " God knows I would 
give worlds to undo what I have done. Fear not ! 
There is no power, no dread, no earthly consider- 
ation that shall hinder me from doing you justice ! 
If you can take such a vile wretch as I am for a 
ll 

I 


102 


A DIABOLICAL PLOT. 


husband, Minnie, — if you will not turn from me 
in loathing and horror at the very altar, — you shall 
be my wife. Here on my knees I solemnly 
swear it ! ” 

" God hears your vow, Frank Gildersleeve ! ’’ 
said Minnie, solemnly. "On your head be the 
consequences as you are true or false to it. And 
now let me leave this place. Its very atmosphere 
suffocates me.” 

Frank offered to assist her down the stairs ; 
but she would not suffer him to touch her ; with 
the sense of all she had endured at his hands, so 
fresh upon her, she recoiled from him as she 
would from a serpent. The feeling would wear 
off, she knew. Her love had not been idly given. 
Her heart still beat tenderly for the man who had 
wronged her ; but she could nbt forgive him all 
at once. Time must be given her to calm and 
assuage the sting and smart of her lacerated feel- 
ings. And so she told him. 

They parted at the door, and Minnie, her mind 
in a whirl, and sick and almost fainting, slowly 
pursued her way homeward alone. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. — DINING AND 
WINING ON BEACON HILL. 

" This way, Father Titus ; this way,” said Mr. 
Augustus Gildersleeve, ushering into his dining- 
room a short, stout man dressed in the clerical 
habit of a Catholic priest. 

Around the dining-table were seated a party of 
gentlemen. 

Augustus Gildersleeve was entertaining a few 
select friends, — three celebrated divines. 

They were of the liberal faith, and loved and 
admired Mr. Gildersleeve if for nothing more 
than for his famous wines and still more famous 
dinners. 

First was the Reverend Erasmus Poindexter, a 
transcendentalist. Next to him was seated the 
Reverend Hilary Cecil, an easy-going preacher of 
the easy-going school. The third was the Rev- 
erend Gideon Onslaught, once a zealous Orthodox 
revivalist, now the most noted, the most rabid of 
Orthodox assailants. 

Mi*. Gildersleeve boasted that his house was 


1C4 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


Liberty Hall ; in other words, he was ostenta- 
tiously hospitable. 

These members of the church militant frequently 
met here to partake of his hospitality. Mr. Gil- 
dersleeve was fond of theologians. He liked to 
have them discuss polemics, — mooted points of 
doctrine and faith. It amused him. 

ef Walk right in. Father Titus,” continued Mr. 
Gildersleeve. ” You are acquainted with my cler- 
ical friends, I believe.” 

The priest bowed and shook hands with the 
reverend gentlemen. His sleek, unctuous coun- 
tenance lighted up with a pleasant and agreeable 
smile His eye, black and piercing, had at times 
a certain sly look that might mean simply good- 
humor or craftiness. 

He was soft and glib of speech, with a persua- 
sive air that almost of itself carried conviction to 
what he uttered. 

Father Titus was on exceedingly friendly terms 
with the Gildersleeve family. Little, however, 
did Gertrude’s parents imagine the real objects 
which drew Father Titus so frequently to the 
Beacon Hill mansion. 

Gertrude herself might have enlightened them 
had she chosen to do so. 

Momentous was to be the consequences of her 
reticence ! 




dinixq and Wining on beacon hill. 165 

Oh ! If she could only have had a glimpse into 
the future ! 

Oh ! If she could only have read Father Titus’s 
secret heart ! 

" Happy to meet you, gentlemen,” said Father 
Titus, seating himself at the table. 

The cloth had been removed with the remains 
of the dinner. Rich cut-glass decanters, con- 
taining wines of various kinds, now glistened on 
the bright mahogany. 

The only attendant present was Sambo, who 
stood behind his master’s chair. 

His chief functions consisted in passing the 
liquors, or knocking off the heads of Champagne 
bottles. 

" You should have happened in earlier, Father,” 
said Mr. Cecil. 

"Yes, with you our dinner-party would have 
been complete,” said Mr. Poindexter. 

The priest waved his hand with a graceful 
gesture. 

" Ah ! gentlemen, I am unhappily undergoing 
a penance to-day, which obliges me to dispense 
with food for twenty-four hours,” he said, with a 
serio-comic expression, which elicited a general 
laugh. 

" But your prohibition does not extend to 
drink?” said Mr. Onslaught. 


166 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


"Happily, no,” said the priest. 

"What will you have then, Father Titus?” 
said Mr. Gildersleeve. " Claret, Port, Cham- 
pagne? Or there is some particularly fine old 
Otard at your elbow.” 

Sambo, ever on the alert, had started to pass 
either decanter, hut the priest settled the matter 
by taking the brandy. 

He poured out a liberal quantity, and raising 
his glass, said politely, — 

" My regards, gentlemen. May your shadows 
never be less.” 

Toasts to each other now rapidly followed, 
Father Titus having set the ball once in motion. 

All dignity was soon forgotten. Hilarity be- 
came the order of the day. 

Those men, claiming to represent the culture 
and refinement of Boston, drank until all sense of 
propriety was lost. 

Discussion, song, and story succeeded. 

Father Titus alone retained the full possession 
of his faculties. Seeming to drink each toast 
offered, he adroitly concealed the fact that his 
glass was empty as he raised it to his lips. 

No one observed this manoeuvre but the watch- 
ful Sambo. 

The priest accordingly rose in the negro's esti- 
mation. 


DINING AND WINING ON BEACON HILL. 167 


Sambo, however, did not know what a severe 
effort was required on Father Titus’s part to with- 
stand the temptation to indulge. 

The priest was of the flesh, fleshly. 

He loved wine, but not in the apostolic sense. 

In the security of his own parsonage, and sur- 
rounded by his own cronies, he dared to give loose 
rein to his propensity. 

But he was too cautious to lose his mental 
balance in the presence of such a company as 
this. 

Besides, he had duties yet to perform, and a 
project of great moment to further, and these 
demanded a clear brain. 

"I perceive, Mr. Gildersleeve,” said the pon- 
derous Poindexter, talking rather thick, " that we 
lire pretty well represented here in a denomina- 
tional sense.” 

" Ah, yes,” said the host. "I think I compre- 
hend what you mean, brother Poindexter.” 

It is altogether too problematical a question to 
decide whether Mr. Gildersleeve did comprehend 
or not. He was hardly in a condition, physically 
or mentally, to see anything very clearly. 

" Yes,” continued Poindexter. "Here we have 
three of the leading sects, — the Liberal, the 
Catholic, and — and — and — ” 

" Come now, friend Poindexter,” interposed Mr. 


168 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


Onslaught, "you are getting a stage beyond me. 
You not only see double , but thribble! Take 
another glass of this excellent Madeira, and then 
tell me where is your third representative ? ” 

" Probably our friend refers to Sambo yonder,” 
said the mild Mr. Cecil. " Did not our good host 
tell us that Sambo was a preacher of the Ortho- 
dox persuasion before he escaped from slavery at 
the South?” 

"Thank you, brother Cecil,” said Poindexter. 
"Yes, Orthodox — that was the term I was in 
search of. Sambo,” — turning to the darky, and 
bending a severe glance on him, — " are you not a 
preacher ? ” 

"Don’t know nuffin’ ’bout preachin’ Marsa,” 
answered Sambo, in some trepidation. " Used 
ter talk ter de colored folks in de camp-meetin’ 
sometimes, down yar !” 

And Sambo pointed to the floor, meaning 
thereby to indicate the Southern point of the 
compass. 

" What ! ” exclaimed Mr. Poindexter, still more 
severely. " Do you mean to say you have 
preached down there?” And the divine repeated 
Sambo’s gesture, impressively. " I was not aware 
that preaching was allowed ' down there.’ I have 
been given to understand that the potentate who 
is popularly supposed to govern those regions is 


dining and wining on beacon hill. 169 

decidedly averse to preaching of any kind.” A 
burst of laughter followed this equivoque . 

"’Clare ter gracious, Mars’ Ponduckster,” said 
the bewildered Sambo, " I ’se dun no what yer 
mean. It ’s de Gospel troof dat I has talked 
’ligion at de camp-meetin’s doun Souf.” 

" Down South? Oh 1 ” said Mr. Poindexter, at 
'which they all laughed again. " Well, that fact 
being established, Sambo, are you an Orthodox?” 

" Yah ! yah ! Marsa ! Coorse I ’m a Norfidox,” 
said Sambo, showing all his ivory. 

" W ell, and why are you an Orthodox in belief, 
Sambo?” pursued Mr. Poindexter, pouring out a 
glass of wine and slowly sipping it. 

" W al, I dunno ’zockly, Marsa ! ” returned 
Sambo, who began to comprehend that they were 
quizzing him. "Yer see I was a slabe way down 
in Ole Virginny. All de slabes go Norf toward 
de Norf star. All de ship for de Norf dey go 
Norf — ’cause why? ’Cause dar be de Norf star, 
ob coorse. Dat star be de star ob Freedom. 
An’ now all de Freedmen, dey be goin’ Norf too 
— gwine from Missip, from Norf C’liny an’ Ole 
Kentuck. An’ de ship dey come Norf, too. 
’Cause why ? Cause dere be light up dar. ’Cause 
de Norf has de best docks. De safes’ docks for 
de runaway slabe use ter be de Norf docks. So, 
when I leebe Norfo’k I get board de ship dat 


170 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


steer for de Norf docks. And darfore, dat I 
guess be de reason why I’s a Norfodocks.” 

"Ha! ha! ha!” 

" I think after that very lucid exposition,” said 
Onslaught, dryly, " we had better steer clear of all 
docks — even the Docks-ology ! ” 

The laughter was long and hearty at this theo- 
logical pun. 

" Let us hear one of your Southern sermons, 
Sambo,” said Mr. Poindexter. 

" Ay, an echo from the old Plantation,” said 
Rev. Mr. Onslaught. 

" Or a political speech,” said Mr. Cecil. 

" Perhaps he might give us his opinion of the 
subject you gentlemen have been discussing,” said 
Father Titus, " namely, the substitution of science 
for religion.” 

"Let him choose his own subject,” said Mr. 
Gildersleeve. 

Sambo protested that he could not make an 
impromptu speech, and begged to be excused. 

" You ought, at least, to defend your own opin- 
ions,” said Mr. Onslaught ; " you have heard us 
tear Orthodoxy to pieces.” 

"Yes, I hearn you try to do dat, sah.” 

" Oh, we did it,” remarked Mr. Cecil. " Come 
now, don’t you believe after what you have heard, 
that science is God, after all?” 


DINING AND WINING ON BEACON HILL. 171 


The negro’ shook his head. 

" I ’se only a po’ servant, lieah,” he said ; " an’ 
twould n’t do fo’ me to speak to gentlemen.” 

" Speak out, man,” cried Mr. Gildersleeve, 
slapping the negro on the hack; "speak your 
mind freely. Let ’s hear you.” 

" Don’t be afraid,” said Mr. Poindexter, with a 
wink to his brethren ; " criticise us freely, and 
when you are through with us take up Father 
Titus.” And Mr. Poindexter winked to that gen- 
tleman, who replied by drinking Mr. Poindex- 
ter’s health. 

" I can’t make no speech,” said Sambo, turning 
his honest face upon the convivial party who, set- 
tling themselves back in their chairs, prepared to 
enjoy themselves at the poor ignorant fellow’s 
expense : " I hain't got no lamin’, an’ dat am de 
troof. I don’t know nuffin’ ’bout your trails — 
trans-continentalism, or cool mules (molecules ) , 
or your — your porous plasters ( protoplasms ) 
or your vermifuges ( vertebrates ). But I knows 
de Bible,” Sambo continued, warming up. "Dat’s 
what’s de matter, an’ you kin stick a pin dar, 
bredren. If I am sick an’ in trouble, what kin 
yer science do fur me? If I ’s in poverty, will 
yer science see me froo de swamp ? No ! no ! 
bredren ! If I lose my wife an’ little chil’ren, 
will science bring us togedder agi’n? Will it 


172 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


gib cle bressed hope dat’s like de anchor to de 
soul?” 

" Good ! Good ! Hear ! Hear ! ” 

Sambo had now got on firm ground. His 
enthusiasm was thoroughly aroused. He went 
on : — 

" Wha’ did yer science do fo’ my people afore 
de war? Did it help ’em ter b’ar de burdens? 
Did it gib ’em strength ter b’ar de lash ? Did it 
gib ’em consolation in de dark hours ? Did 
science stan’ by dere side when dey war ready ter 
drop workin’ in de cotton-fields an’ de canebrake ? 
When de saint die somebody stan’ by him side. 
Dat’s de bressed Lor’ Jesus. What’ll you do, 
bredren, when you hab no bressed Jesus by you 
side? Heh? Will yer science help yer to cross 
de dark ribber ob death? No, sah ! No, no, 
bredren ! Yer knows better ! ” 

"Ha! ha! ha!” 

" That hits you, Onslaught ! ” said Poindexter. 

" And you also, brother Poindexter,” retorted 
Onslaught. 

"Father Titus seems to be a favorite with our 
colored friend,” laughed Mr. Cecil. 

" Go for Father Titus, Sambo ! Slay and spare 
not ! ” said Mr. Gildersleeve. 

"Yes. No partiality — no partiality ! ” said On- 
slaught. 


DINING AND WINING ON BEACON HILL. 173 

Thus encouraged, Sambo continued : — 

"Here’s de science dat I beliebe in,” — draw- 
ing a Bible from his pocket. "Here am de 
science fo’ trouble an’ distress. Ah ! In dar am 
vie troo science dat will carry yer ober de Jordan 
when de billows roll ! In dar is de science dat 
will bring de angels round yer bed, when de 
world am a growin’ dark.” 

Then turning to the priest : — 

"An’ you, Fader Titus, yer wants dis book 
taken out ob de public schools, — out ob de Bos- 
ton schools, an’ de Freedman schools. An’ not 
on’y dat, but yer want ter break up de schools — 
all de schools. Take all de lamin’ out ob de 
land. Stop all de people from t’inking fer dem- 
selves. Make ’em all ignorant as dey am in de 
Cat’olic countries, whar’ not one in four know 
how ter read at all. Yer make yer people pray 
ter de Virgin an’ de saints. Yer give ’em beads 
an’ charms for de Bread ob Life.” 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! How ’s that, Father Titus ? ” 
Sambo went on after the laughter had ceased : 

" How can de Virgin Mary hear all dat pray to 
her at once? When she’m alive, she couldn't 
hear mo’ dan forty rods off. An’ how kin she 
hear now v T hen she am dead dese eighteen hund’d 
year? Jus’ tole me dat, Fader Titus! How kin 
she hear folks in Australia, an’ Africa, an’ Europe, 


174 


THE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


an’ America, all a prayin’ to her at de same time ? 
Yer’s got de wrong science, Fader Titus; yer’s 
got de wrong science, too, an’ no mistake.” 

" Good ! Hit him again ! ” cried Onslaught. 

" An’ more dan dat, yer let de poor honest man 
stay in Purgatory, an’ for a few dollars yer pray 
de rich rumseller out. Dat’s de wrong science, I 
tell yer, whar de man dat owns fo’ or five liquor 
saloons has de bes’ seat in de church, an’ de po’ 
man sits down by de do’ or kneels on de steps 
outside. Yer can’t deny dat, ’cause it ’s de troof. 
Money buys de bes’ places in yer Cat’edrals, an’ 
de best places in hebben ; an’ de rumseller an’ de 
gamblers who hab plenty ob money ter spend, is 
de big man ob de crowd. Stick a pin dar, bred- 
ren ! Nuffin is too good fer him, an’ w r hen he 
dies, yer pray him out ob Purgatory quicker ’n 
a dog could tree a coon. While de poor man is 
roasted an’ tortered jus’ for want ob a dollar ! ” 

"Don't let up, Sambo ! Go for the padre ! He 
can stand it ! ” 

" An’ more dan dat, yer people may drink an’ 
fight as dey please, an’ when dey goes to de con- 
fession, yer gibs ’em a few prayers ter say, an’ so 
many beads ter count, an’ dey am ’solved till de 
nex’ time — all forgibben an’ blotted out ob de 
recordin’ angel's book. One side am de Trans- 
trans-continentalists, dat beliebe dat de on’y God 


DINING AND WINING ON BEACON 1IILL. 175 


am in de mollusks an’ de clams an’ de lobsters. 
De oder side, de Cat’olics, dey drink, dey swear, 
dey gamble, an’ beliebes anyt’ing de priest tells 
’um, an’ goes ter Hebben — ef dey on’y pays 
enough ! ” 

"A palpable hit, Father Titus! No dodging 
that ! Go on, Sambo. Your head’s level ! ” 

" I ’in mos’ froo, gem’men. If ’t was n’t fo’ what 
little Norfordoxy dar am lef’ in Boston, den Boston 
’ud be wusser dan Sodom an’ Gomorrah. Ah ! 
gemmens, de saints dat yer all preach about, dey 
mortify de deeds ob de flesh. Now, how yer 
mortify de flesh when yer smokes an’ drinks an’ 
dribes de fas’ hosses, an’ do odder t’ings too 
numerous ter mention. Ah ! Marsrs ! Yer ’ll all 
hev ter give an account ob yer wicked deeds. 
Yer ’ll hev ter tell de Lor’ how yer let de wolf 
inter de fold, an’ let him eat up de tender sheep. 
Guess yer won’t feel mighty peart when ole 
Satan says, ' Dem ’s mine ! Dem men ’s been doin 
my work, an’ libin’ on my money.’ An’ de King 
in his Glory will say, ' Depart ! depart ye un- 
faithful shepherds. I nebber knew ye ! I don’t 
want nuffin ter do wif yer.’ Den dar ’ll be a 
howlin’ an’ a wailin’ an’ a gnashin’ ob teef, an’ den 
ye ’ll be a screamin’ for de mountings to fall on 
yer an’ hide ye from de face ob de Lor’.” 

In that speech Sambo showed himself a brave 


176 


TIIE GILDERSLEEVES AT HOME. 


man. Bold, daring, as a lion at bay, standing 
like a rock, in God-given defiance against Boston’s 
intemperance and infidelity. Pitting his own 
simple faith against the culture of Harvard Col- 
lege, until he compelled respect. 

The assembled guests made a pretence of laugh- 
ing at this assault ; but at the same moment 
Father Titus cried out in electric tones, — 

" What ails our host ? See to Mr. Gilder- 
sleeve ! ” 

Mr. Gildersleeve had been strangely silent for 
some time past. Amid the general hilarity atten- 
tion had been abstracted from him ; but now at the 
priest’s words his strange manner struck all the 
assembled guests, who with one accord sprang to 
his assistance. Mr. Gildersleeve made an effort 
to rise from his chair, but sank back helplessly. 

A terrible shiver seemed to pass over his frame. 

His face turned from white to red, then to 
purple. 

His head fell back — he gasped for breath — 
his eyes took on a rigid, ghastly stare. 

" Some water ! Quick, Sambo ! ” cried Mr. 
Cecil. 

Mr. Gildersleeve convulsively grasped Father 
Titus’s hand as if for aid, then with a vain effort to 
speak, sank back senseless. 

With habitual presence of mind, Father Titus 


DINING AND WINING ON BEACON HILL. 177 


lifted the senseless form from his chair and laid it 
flat upon the floor. 

" Good heavens ! He is dead ! ” said Mr. Poin- 
dexter, in an awestruck tone. 

"No,” said the priest, ” not dead. A stroke of 
apoplexy,” he added, in a whisper. " Go for a 
doctor, Sambo ! Run as if for your very life ! ” 

Then the priest, skilled in disease, directed the 
others to chafe the extremities of the unconscious 
man. 

"I will go and inform Mrs. Gildersleeve and 
her daughter,” Father Titus said, and left the 
room. 

Too late, alas ! too late ! When the frightened 
women reached the room — long before Dr. 
Lancet could appear, — Augustus Gildersleeve 
had breathed his last! 

12 


CHAPTER XIV. 


MINNIE’S TROUBLES. — ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 

Let us return to Minnie Marston. To her the 
experiences of years had come in a few short 
months. The light-hearted girl fresh from the 
New Hampshire hills, full of high hopes, and a 
noble purpose, ignorant of vice and unsullied by 
thought or deed as a saint, had been crushed 
almost to the earth by a cruel, monstrous wrong. 
A hideous page of life had been revealed to her 
shrinking vision. A rude and savage blow had 
dissipated in one moment the fairy dreams of 
innocent youth, and awakened her to the stern 
realities of existence. To its sorrow, its suffer- 
ing, its sin, and its shame. Only God and her 
own heart knew the torturing, agonizing wretched- 
ness which was now her daily and nightly portion. 
It seemed at times as if she must go mad with the 
secret weight of her wrongs, unshared by a sym- 
pathizing breast. 

"Oh, mother, dearest mother,” she would in- 
wardly cry. " If I could lay my head upon your 
bosom and whisper in your car the story of my 


ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 


179 


grief, you would give me comfort; you would 
calm and soothe my troubled soul ! Oh ! How I 
remember, now, the countless times when I have 
flown to you, dear mother, with my childish sor- 
rows, how you would hush me in your arms and 
kiss my tears away, and I would fall asleep 
clasped closely to your loving breast. Oh ! heav- 
enly Father ! help me to bear this terrible cross ! 
Sustain me in this bitter, bitter trial, or my heart 
will burst ! ” 

But to no living soul did the poor girl think 
of breathing a word of that which oppressed her. 
She had promised the graceless scoundrel who 
had compassed her ruin, never to betray him. 
Despite the misery he had inflicted on her, she 
loved him with the purest, the strongest devotion 
of a woman’s nature. Her love constantly pleaded 
for him, blinding reason and judgment to the 
enormity of his crime and the glaring faults of his 
character. She had pardoned and forgiven him 
out of the very abundance of that love, and noth- 
ing would have induced her to violate the pledge 
she had given him. 

Would Frank Gildersleeve be as true to his 
word? Would he retrieve or repair the grievous 
wronof he had done her and make her his wife ? 
She could not, dared not question his truth and 
fidelity. To have done so, poor Minnie felt would 


180 


Minnie’s troubles. 


be to drive her to madness. The very thought 
was desperation, and she would not entertain it 
for a moment. 

Two months had gone by and still Frank Gil- 
dcrsleeve evaded his promise. Whenever the 
subject was mooted he had put her off with vari- 
ous ingenious reasons and excuses, in which she 
was forced to acquiesce. 

"Do not feel any anxiety, dear Minnie,” he 
would say coaxingly. "You know I love you 
above everything else in the world. The happiest 
moment of my life will be when I can call you my 
own dear, little wife, and that shall be very soon. 
I am making every effort to hasten the day, you 
may rest assured, my dearest.” 

But Minnie grew pale and thin under this hope 
deferred. Frank frequently surprised her in 
tears. 

The gay and happy spirits which had never 
been darkened by a care entirely forsook her. 
Her sweet blue eyes grew dim with secret weep- 
ing, and her countenance wore an expression of 
plaintive melancholy inexpressibly sad and touch- 
ing. Her step grew slow and languid, and there 
came many a day when she was compelled to ask 
the indulgence of her employers to excuse her 
from attendance at the store. 

"What in the name of common-sense ails you, 


ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 


181 


Minnie?” Maggie Watson asked her one day. 
”1 declare, I don’t believe city air agrees with 
you, dear. You are pining for green fields and 
daisies and buttercups, and all that sort of thing 
you country girls make so much of. Of course 
you haven’t gone and fallen in love with that 
young swell, Frank Gildersleeve ! Why, how 
you blush ! There dear, I did n’t mean to say 
anything to touch you up so ! I declare I do 
believe it ’s more serious than a flirtation after all ! 
And I’ll just give that young jackanapes a 
broad hint the next time I see him. If he means 
business and wants to marry you, it ’s all right. 
If he’s only flirting and fooling you, I’ll give him 
a piece of my mind that ’ll send him about his 
business in short order, that I will ! ” 

Minnie grasped the arm of her impulsive and 
voluble, but well-meaning friend, her face turning 
deadly white. 

"Oh! Maggie,” she cried, "if you love me, 
promise that you will never mention such a thing 
to Mr. Gildersleeve ! I beg, I implore you not to 
do so ! You are mistaken, utterly mistaken.” 

"I don’t know about that,” said Maggie dubi- 
ously to herself; but she gave the required 
promise. 

It was early on that same afternoon that Frank 
Gildersleeve called at Minnie’s boarding-house. 


182 


MINNIE'S TUOU1SLES. 


She came down into the parlor, a flush of pleasure 
lighting up her sweet, sad face as she beheld him ; 
for Frank had been somewhat remiss in his atten- 
tions of late. His heart smote him as he noted 
her sad, reproachful look. 

" I have been so busy lately, dearest,” he said, 
apologetically, " that I have had hardly a moment 
to myself. But run and put on your things, 
Minnie. A friend of mine has loaned me a splen- 
did team for the afternoon. A drive this bright 
September day will do you a world of good. 
You are getting dumpish at that confounded 
store ! I wish you would listen to me, dearest. 
Give up the store and rely entirely on me to 
supply your needs.” 

" Frank,” said the young girl with quiet firm- 
ness, " when you are ready to redeem your 
promise and marry me, as you have sworn to do, 
then and not till then will I look to you for my 
support. Until that time I shall continue to rely 
solely on my own resources, unless — ” 

" Unless what ? ” demanded the young man as 
her voice faltered and broke. 

" Unless Heaven hears my prayers and takes 
me from this wicked world ! Oh ! Frank ! ” she 
added with an uncontrollable burst of anofuish, 
"I cannot, cannot bear this awful load of misery. 
I cannot live as I have lived for two months past ! 
My heart is surely breaking ! ” 


ON THE BRIGHTON BOAD. 


183 


"There — there, my darling,” said her lover, 
visibly disturbed, and dreading that she might ho 
overheard by some of the inmates of the house. 
" Go get your things and we ’ll have a good spin 
out on the road that will brace you up and drive 
away this fit of blues.” 

Since his father’s death, Frank Gildersleeve, 
with a greater command of money than during the 
former’s lifetime, had launched freely out upon 
the turbid sea of dissipation. He had taken 
lately to horse-flesh, and the pair of handsome 
thoroughbreds attached to the light road-wagon 
standing before the door was his latest purchase in 
that line. 

It was a racing-day, and the young rake’s 
vanity had induced him to show off his stylish 
turnout and the prettiest girl in Boston — as he 
very justly termed Minnie — on the Beacon Park 
Boad, which he knew would be lined with the 
equipages of the " fast and fancy ” of Boston. 

" Why are there so many vehicles out to-day, 
Frank?” Minnie asked as they dashed along, 
giving the dust to many a fast trotter. " And why 
does everybody stare so at us ? ’ 

Frank replied to her last question with a smile 
at her ingenuousness, — 

"Why, they are looking at you, my dear.” 

" At me ! ” 


184 


Minnie’s troubles. 


" Certainly ! Your cheeks are ruddy as a rose. 
Your eyes sparkle with something of their old- 
time lustre, and altogether, my love, you look 
just as pretty as a picture.” 

The blush on the young girl’s cheek deepened 
at this praise from her lover. It was indeed as 
Frank had asserted. All eyes were attracted to 
the lovely girl. And even Frank’s magnificent 
bays elicited less remark than the bright eyes 
and charming countenance of his youthful com- 
panion. 

"Jerusalem!” exclaimed Harry Waters, who, 
in company with a flashily dressed young woman, 
had seen Frank’s team with its occupants fly by 
his own. "Wonder where the deuce Frank 
picked up that pretty piece of femininity ! By 
Jove ! A little beauty, Meg, is n’t she though ! 
So Frank wouldn’t turn his head, though of 
course h$ saw us ! Aha ! my boy ; you want to 
keep shady, not recognize old friends for fear 
perhaps your little Puritan might ask annoying 
questions. All right! I’m not the boy to spoil 
sport. There ’s nothing sneaking about me ! Eh, 
Meg?” 

Meanwhile Frank and Minnie drew near the 
gates of Beacon Park, through which a long string 
of carriages were filing, while throngs of people 
of both sexes were hurrying along on foot. 


ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 


185 


" Confess now, my clear, that you feel already 
like a new being. Is it not so, dear ? ” said Frank. 

Minnie could not but acknowledge the truth of 
what he had said. The excitement had, indeed, 
lent her a temporary strength and imparted a 
glow to her whole frame. Her mind, too, was, 
for the time being, more at ease than it had been 
for many a long day. 

"What is this place, Frank? Surely you are 
not going in here ? ” 

Minnie had clutched his arm in her surprise as 
Frank turned the heads of his horses toward the 
gate. 

"Did you never hear of an exhibition of horse- 
speed, my pet? ” 

"What! You mean a horse-race!” ejaculated 
Minnie. 

"Well, yes, if you choose to call it so. Come, 
now, dear, I want to treat you to a new and de- 
lightful experience, Minnie. You do not object, 
surely ? ” 

" But — a horse-race ! ” said Minnie. " Oh ! I 
could not go, Frank.” 

" Why, you do not think I would take you to a 
disreputable place, Minnie?” 

"But, Frank, I’ve always thought respectable 
people did not go to horse-races.” 

" Respectable people! Look about you, my 


186 


minnie’s troubles. 


love ! ” They had by this time parsed through 
the gates. " Why, here are the most respectable 
of Boston’s society, the creme de la creme , the 
very bluest of Boston blue-blood. And that, you 
know, is a shade of perfection no other social 
grade in the United States can ever hope to attain. 
And,” he added, mockingly, to himself, "I ought 
to know, since I have the honor of belonging to 
the sacred caste myself.” 

" But they bet and gamble at horse-races ? ” pur- 
sued Minnie. 

"Not in Boston, my dear, under the new dis- 
pensation,” said Frank, ironically. "No gambling 
of any kind is allowed in the city of the Puritans. 
You do not read the newspapers, or you would 
not be so lamentably ignorant on such points. 
Why, the chief commissioner of the Boston police 
is at the head of this innocent little diversion 
which you vulgarly and alarmingly term a horse- 
race. The days of horse-racing, as such, are over 
in Boston — over forever! Here, my dear, read 
this advertisement.” 

Frank took a newspaper from his pocket, and 
indicating a four or five square advertisement, 
handed it to Minnie. Sho read, in large capi- 
tals, the announcement that the Boston Drivino- 

O \ 

and Athletic Association offered a series of " en- 
tertainments and exhibitions of horse-speed,” at 


ON THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 


187 


which, it was conspicuously and emphatically 
stated, no betting or gambling of any kind would 
be tolerated or allowed. 

"Is it not perfectly harmless, Minnie?” asked 
Frank, returning the newspaper to his pocket. 

" Indeed, Frank, I do not see how any excep- 
tion can be taken to a mere exhibition of this 
description. It seems very similar to the exhibi- 
tions at our agricultural fairs up in New Hamp- 
shire.” 

” Precisely, Minnie. And now I will drive 
down to the Grand Stand, and secure seats, and 
then put the team up in the stables.” 


CHAPTER XY. 


IK THE GRAND STAKE. — JERKS AKD SHIPPERS OK 
TROTTIKG- PARKS. 

The Grand Stand, as Frank and Minnie took 
their seats, presented a scene gorgeous with color, 
and animated by bright eyes, laughing lips, the 
flutter of g*ay ribbons and silken tresses wantonly 
playing in the breeze. A band stationed in one 
end of the Grand Stand discoursed soul-thrilling 1 
music. The champing of bits, the tread of many 
feet, and the confused din and murmur of the large 
and surging crowd, lent an excitement to the 
scene that stirred the senses and quickened the 
heart-beats of every beholder. 

It was a scene and a sensation never to be for- 
gotten by one experiencing it for the first time. 
And Minnie Marston, for once in long and weary 
weeks, threw off the secret cares and anxieties 
that were gnawing at her heart-strings, to revel 
in the novel and constantly shifting changes of the 
brilliant and bewildering spectacle. 

It was the most exciting race of the season. 
The largest attendance. An " eminently respect- 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON TROTTING PARKS. 189 


able ” gathering, containing the elite of Boston 
society. The Grand Stand was filled with ladies, 
laughing and discussing the merits of the con- 
tending steeds. Old men, young boys, the coun- 
try bumpkin, with "his sisters and his cousins 
and his aunts.” The smart clerk, jauntily dressed, 
cigar in mouth and score-book in hand. All with 
strained nerves, sparkling eyes, and eager faces. 

Now the excitement of the day reaches its cul- 
minating point. There is a perfect Babel of 
sounds and cries as the starter’s bell rings. The 
ladies clap their hands and cry, — 
i *' Oh ! Is n’t it just lovely ? What a splendid 
sight ! What beautiful horses ! Oh ! Give me 
a horse -race before anything else in the world. 
It ’s too awfully jolly for anything ! ” 

The racing begins. 

" Go ! ” shouts the starter. 

And the horses are off like the wind. 

" Hi ! Yi ! There they go ! Alley ’s ahead ! 
Go it, Emmons ! Bully for the brown mare ! 
Now she ’s going it ! Now for the home-stretch. 
Hi ! Yi ! hip ! hip ! hurrah ! ” 

Fast and furious grows the tumult. 

' Two to one on Foxie ! ” " Here you are ! ’’ 

" Fifteen to ten on the chestnut ! ” " That ’s my 

bet!” "A hundred to twenty-five on the stal- 
lion ! ” " I take the odds ! ” " Five hundred to 




190 


IN THE GRAND STAND. 


three on the brown mare ! ” " Done for a thou- 

sand ! ” 

Such were the Bedlam shouts, such the mad 
mania of the horse-race. 

" What are those men doing down there ? ” 
asked Minnie of Frank, pointing to several groups 
of men huddled together in the space in front of 
the Grand Stand. They were waving their arms, 
and shouting and yelling like maniacs. 

" Oh ! They are merely excited, that ’s all^ 
said Frank, nonchalantly. *' But will you excuse 
me for a moment, Minnie, while I go down and 
get a cigar? You are perfectly safe here, sur- 
rounded by all these ladies. You will not be 
nervous if I leave you, only for a few minutes?” 

Minnie did not like to express her real distaste 
for being deserted even for a moment in such a 
strange place. So she merely said, — 

" Do not be long, please.” And Frank, who 
had been anxious for some time for an excuse to 
go below, departed. 

He had seen Dr. Forceps, Harry Waters, and 
several of his acquaintance in the excited throng, 
and was burning to join them. 

" Hallo, Frank, old fellow ! ” said Harry Waters, 
as the former elbowed his way toward him. " Are 
you making up a book on the race ? ” 

"Not yet, but I’ve been on tenter-hooks this 
half-hour to get down among you.” 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON TROTTING PARKS. 191 


" Oh, yes, I understand,” replied Waters, with 
a knowing wink up toward the Grand Stand. 
" Say, my boy, who is the little beauty ? I ’ve 
been trying to pump your friend the doctor here, 
but he’s as mum as an oyster; won’t cackle no 
more ’n a dumb rooster. Says he don’t know 
her.” 

" And that ’s true enough,” answered Frank, 
with a side glance at Forceps. 

" All right, my boy,” said Waters, indifferently. 
" A hint is as good as a kick to a blind horse. 
I ’m neither meddler nor marplot, and don’t want 
to know any more than you wish to tell me. But 
here comes the nags. See them pull for the last 
quarter ! Hi ! Yi ! ” 

Could Minnie Marston have seen from her 
somewhat remote situation exactly what was tak- 
ing place among those excited crowds on the 
ground in front of the Grand Stand, she would 
have comprehended what a hollow and ridiculous 
farce that high-toned and moral announcement 
was which she had read in the advertisement of 
the races. 

No betting ! No gambling forsooth ! 

As if there was ever a horse-race or a boat-race, 
or any public trial of speed or endurance, on the 
result of which money was not staked ! 

True, there was no visible pool-selling on the 


192 


IN THE GRAND STAND. 


grounds. But thousands and tons of thousands 
of dollars were openly put up on every race and 
heat trotted that day ; put up in the hands of 
volunteer stakeholders, who undoubtedly claimed 
and were allowed their regular commissions on 
each and every event that transpired. 

And all the while, Boston policemen standing 
by, sworn and paid to enforce the law, themselves 
interested and even excited witnesses of its fla- 
grant and barefaced violation ! 

The crowd flocking around the bar where liquors 
were sold was enormous. Eight attendants had 
all they could do to supply the demand. Among 
the heaviest drinkers was Frank Gildersleeve. 
Coming out into the open air after a deep potation, 
he stumbled across Jonathan Jerks. 

"Hallo, Jerks, how are you?” said Frank, 
greeting Jonathan cordially. "What are you 
doing out here, eh? Going to- turn your crank 
of reform on to horse-racing ? ” 

"Wal, shouldn’t wonder ef I did,” returned 
Jonathan, jerking his head and twitching his eyes 
in his usual manner. " Guess this ’ere trotting 
park needs a leetle crank business, eh?” 

" Ha, ha ! ” laughed Frank, gayly, " I think 
you ’ll have to turn the crank a long while before 
you could stop this most respectable ' moral 
exhibition.’ 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON TROTTING PARKS. 193 


* What ! ” cried Frank, suddenly recognizing 
some one approaching. " Why, I declare if there 
is n’t our old friend, the superb and incomparable 
' Eye-glass Slippers ’ ! ” 

Hullo ! Great Scott ! ef that ain’t Slippers 
arter all!” exclaimed . Jonathan, stopping short 
and gazing at the exquisite with suppressed amaze- 
ment. "Wal! wal ! What in the dickens has 
brought him back ter this tarnation country? 
Gosh I perhaps he ’s a-goin’ ter show our * dood 
thothiety ’ what ’s what ! ” 

Jerks, with a twist of the head and roll of the 
eyes, chuckled and sauntered up to Slippers. 

" Hullo, old fel, how are ye? How de du?” 
saluted Jonathan, grasping the fashionable snob 
by the hand, and almost wringing it oft* in his 
brawny palm. " Great geewhiliky ! my boy, 
when did you git back ? Wa’ n’t you rayther 
’fraid ter come, now? Earth might tip up, ef 
you stirred round much, eh?” 

" Ah-h ! ” murmured Slippers, withdrawing his 
hand from Jerks’s grasp, a look of agony on his 
face. " Oh — ah ! how do, Mr. — a — Mr. J erth ? 
Aw ! I — I am werwy glad to thee you.” 

He looked, indeed, very glad. About as glad 
as if he had met a wild alligator with open jaw 
and no way of escape before him. 

" Great gosh ! So you got back, eh ! ” cried 
13 


194 


IN THE GRAND STAND. 


Jonathan, slapping the embarrassed Slippers gayly 
on the back. " Thought you ’d fetch over a leetle 
'dood thothiety’ with you, eh? Wal, that’s 
right. Ef you can save the country, do it, by 
hokey ! ef you have ter bust off every button 
you ’ve got ! ” 

"Aw! Mr. Jerkth,” simpered Slippers, arrang- 
ing the bouquet in the lapel of his coat. " Aw ! 
what — er — do you think of this feaw-tiful, mag- 
nifique horth-rathe ? ” 

"Think of it,” cried Jonathan, scornfully; 
"why I think it’s a pesky humbug. The biggest 
fraud I ever sot eyes onter. Why, I thought this 
’ere race was a-goin’ ter be a high-toned, moral, 
hifalutin’ horse-race an’ no mistake Why, great 
Joshua Pease! ef I didn’t think it was ter be 
a’most a camp-meetin’, a revival of all that was 
good an’ lovely. Jes’ look at the papers, they 
puffed it high sky. Moral ? Why moral wa’ n’t 
no name for it. Accordin’ ter their reckonin’ ’t was 
a dozen times better ’n a prayer-meetin’ an’ a mill- 
ion times sweeter for the soul than a hul cart-load 
of tracts an’ a shovelful of mottoes thrown in.” 

" Aw ! but thith rathe ith patronithed by the 
betht thothiety,” said Slippers, with a genteel 
wave of the hand. 

" Of course ’tis,” returned Jonathan, winking at 
Frank, who was an amused spectator. "Why, 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON TROTTING PARKS. 195 


ain’t you here ? An’ I rayther reckon’ you ’re 
about as chock full of respectability as they make 
’em. Yes, by hokey ! I believe you, my boy. 
It ’s the all-firedest crowd of gentility I ever set 
eyes onter. — ' Oh ! ma, there ain’t no gamblin’ 
a-goin’ on at Beacon Park. Can’t I go, ma?’ says 
the young sprigs. ' The papers say " hi o betting 
allowed.” ’ An’ the mammas, who raally believe 
the newspapers are like G. Washington, Esq., 
an’ never tell a whopper, swallow the boshwash 
about ' no gambling ’ as simple as a spring chicken. 
'Michael, order out the carriage. We are goin’ 
ter a highly moral horse exhibition,’ they say. 
An’ out trots the carriage, an’ the high-toned boys 
an’ gals come out here, expectin’ ter see amost a 
revival of religion — somethin’ awful good an’ 
grand. I swan ! the idea of seein’ a moral horse- 
race ! Why, I never heerd of sech a thing afore. 
Great jiminy ! You might as well say a horse-race 
without any swearing, any drinkin’ ; I swow ef you 
might n’t ! ” 

" Aw ! but private betting between gentlemen,” 
interposed Slippers. "Aw! that ith different 
from vulgar pool-thelling, you know.” 

" About as much difference, my boy, as there 
is between twelve and a dozen,” blurted out 
Jerks. " Sounds different, but the meaning ain’t 
more ’n a mile an’ a half from each other, I take it. 


196 


IN THE GRAND STAND. 


No sirree bob ! I tell you, bettin’ is betting no 
matter how it’s done or who does it. Why, 
tarnation geewhiliky ! ef I hain’t seen $30,000 
change hands on that ’ere fust race, then I did n't 
see a cent, that’s all. Gamblin’ ! Why ’t ain't no 
name for it. Why, I raally believe half the 
blacklegs in the country are here a-gamblin’ like 
all creation ! Don’t s’pose they come way from 
New York, Kentucky, an’ Tennessee jes’ ter see 
horses trot, du ye? Wal, I guess not. Why, I 
swan ter gracious ! ef the manager of the hul 
thing ain’t a reg’lar professional gambler himself. 
Runs two of the biggest gamblin’ dens in Boston.” 

"Aw! He — he ith a gentleman,” said Slip- 
pers, adjusting his eye-glass and looking admir- 
ingly at the ladies in the Grand Stand. " He — 
aw ! thtandth werwy well in dood thothiety.” 

"Does, eh,” said Jerks, shaking his head. 
"Wal, all I got ter say is, I pity ' dood thothiety.’ 
Boston ’s got down mighty low, I can tell ye, 
when reg’lar gamblers get ter runnin’ a place like 
this. Bosom friend of the president of this ’ere 
association, I hear, too. An’ he ’s the head com- 
missioner of Boston’s police. Great Joshua ! No 
wonder the policemen stand around like statoos, 
a-doin’ nothin’ but stare an’ blink, as ef they 
couldn’t see the gamblin’ goin’ on right under 
their very nose. I swan ! Should n’t wonder ef 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON T LOTTING PARKS. 197 


their eyes was plastered by leetle bits of paper 
with a green back. It’s a tarnation shame the 
way they let this barefaced gamblin’ go on. An 
all-fired shame, I swan ter goodness ef ’t ain’t.” 

" Oh ! doot thothiety allowth betting,” put in 
Slippers, in a supercilious tone. " There ith noth- 
ing dithgratheful about that. The higheth gentle- 
men — the real ' blue-blood ’ awithtocrithy permit 
— ah — playing for money.” 

"Wal, sir, I jes’ tell you what,” said Jonathan, 
warmly, ” their old dads wouldn’t. You can bet 
on that, sure as fate. The old Puritans would 
kick ag’in it like all creation. Great gosh ! more 
I see about ' dood thothiety,’ the more I ’m struck 
whack with the fact that it means ' bad society,’ I 
swan ef it don’t.” 

And Jonathan, winking in a mysterious way at 
Slippers, put his hands in his pocket, and nodding 
to Frank, sauntered away. 

All this while Minnie was in the Grand Stand, 
waiting Frank’s return. 

” Where can he have gone?” she said anxiously, 
as an hour passed and he did not appear. 

The poor girl was getting weary and uneasy at 
the noise and confusion all about her. Now that 
the first novelty of the scene had worn off, she 
felt a growing and increasing distress. The reac- 


198 


IN THE GRAND STAND. 


tion from the unnatural excitement was already 
having its due effect. Her head ached, her limbs 
were full of tremors. 

Suddenly Minnie became conscious that she was 
the object of a free and impertinent regard on the 
part of two or three dissolute and rakish-looking 
men, all old enough to be her father. They had 
observed that she appeared to be alone ; and with 
the blackguardism which distinguishes this class 
of human ghouls and vampires who of late years 
infest Boston’s public places, one of them had 
seated himself in the place vacated by Frank. 
He even attempted to open a conversation with 
the now thoroughly frightened girl. Minnie 
turned resolutely away at the sight of his evil- 
looking countenance. 

" Oh, come now, take it more friendly, my 
dear,” whispered the fellow, coarsely, and moving 
still closer toward the shrinking 1 girl. 

Several gentlemen simultaneously sprang to 
Minnie’s aid at that moment ; but one was before 
them all, — a young man, scarcely more than 
twenty-one, whose dress bespoke him the gentle- 
man, but whose flushed face and reeking breath 
denoted that he was strongly under the influence 
of liquor. 

Sobered partially by what he had just witnessed, 
the young man leaped down the aisle. In an in- 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON TROITING PARKS. 199 


stunt be was confronting the miscreant. In an- 
other, his arm was drawn back, then shot out with 
the force of a catapult, and Minnie’s persecutor 
went headlong down upon the rough floor. 
Shout after shout went up from the men and 
even ladies who had witnessed the scene. 

Minnie impetuously flung herself into the arms 
of her protector, clingingto him and sobbing upon 
his breast, while she murmured, — 

" Oh ! Frank ! Frank ! Take me away from 
here ! Take me from this terrible place ! ” 

Frank Gildersleeve — for it was he — hastened 
to soothe the terrified girl, and followed by three 
or four gentlemen, who had placed themselves 
between him and the infuriated ruffian who had 
now risen to his feet and was shaking his fist in 
impotent rage at the young fellow, reached the 
door. 

A police officer had by this time taken the 
blackguard into custody. 

"Your name, sir, if you please,” said the offi- 
cer to Frank. " I see how the case stands, but I 
shall want you as a witness against this fellow.” 

But Frank had good reasons for not wishing his 
name to appear in connection with such an affair, 
and a few whispered words in the officer’s ear set- 
tled the matter satisfactorily. 

"But I’m not done with you, my chicken,” 


200 


IN THE GRAND STAND 


yelled the prisoner after Frank. I ’vc marked 
you well, my cully, and I ’ll get even with you 
yet, if I ’m jugged for it ! ” 

Paying no heed to the fellow’s menace, Frank 
supported Minnie down the stairs. The poor girl 
was almost too faint and weak to stand. In a few 
minutes more they drove out of the Park Gates, 
and dashed hack toward the city. 

''Are you ill, Minnie?” Frank cried, suddenly, 
as the young girl's head sank upon his shoulder. 

" In mercy’s name stop at the first house,” she 
murmured. "I — I fear I shall faint! Quick, 
Frank, for the love of heaven ! ” 

Fortunately a public-house was close by. Frank 
hastened to assist the agitated girl to alight, ex- 
plaining to the landlord in a few hurried words 
the cause of Minnie’s illness. 

In a moment or two Minnie was lying upon a 
couch in the private sitting-room, while the land- 
lord’s wife applied some simple restoratives. 

"She will be all right after a little rest,” said 
the woman to Frank. She looked curiously for 
a moment at the young couple, then she drew 
Frank aside and asked in a low tone, — 

"The lady is your wife, I take it, sir?” 

The young man was for an instant perplexed at 
the sudden question. Then with a rapid intuition, 
lie answered quickly : " My wife ? Certainly she 
is my wife.” 


JERKS AND SLIPPERS ON TROTTING PARKS. 201 

" Ah ! I am glad to hear that” said the woman, 
and left the room. 

"Frank,” said Minnie, faintly, beckoning him 
to her, " do you love me as dearly and truly as 
you have so often told me that you did?” 

" Ten thousand times more than I can ever 
express by words, my darling,” said the young 
man ; and at the time he spoke nothing but the 
truth. 

" Stoop down nearer to me, dear Frank,” Minnie 
said again. "I want to whisper something in 
your ear.” 

The young man complied, then started back 
pale and trembling. 

"Now you will not prove false to me, Frank?” 
said the young girl, imploringly. 

" Never, my poor girl ! ” he answered. " Min- 
nie, whatever it may cost me, whatever the result 
may be, you shall be my lawful wedded wife 
within forty-eight hours. I will take you home 
to-night. To-morrow I will make all necessary 
preparations, and in the evening we will go quietly 
to a clergyman and be married. As I do to you,” 
he added, solemnly, "may God do to me in the 
hour of my utmost need ! ” 

Remember that oath, Frank Gildersleeve, when 
the hour you have prophesied shall come ! 


CHAPTER XVI. 


LIBERALISM YS. CATHOLICISM. — MR. POINDEXTER 
AND FATHER TITUS. 

The funeral of Augustus Gildersleeye was 
over. The event brought Into close relationship 
those exponents of Catholicism and Liberalism, 
Poindexter and Father Titus. When dying, Mr. 
Gildersleeve had bowed his head to Father Titus. 
The priest, from previous knowledge, understood 
this motion to mean that the merchant died in full 
acceptance of the Catholic faith. This was the 
only sign he gave of salvation. 

From that time Father Titus looked upon 
the Gildersleeve estate as part of his own. He 
was now more frequently at the mansion than ever 
before. True, Mrs. Gildersleeve was a Tran- 
scendentalist and a woman of strong will, but she 
had allowed Gertrude to attend at confessional 
and be taught by the Sisters of Notre Dame. 
Now Gertrude was an heiress. What a prize for 
the church ! Mr. Poindexter had always been 
free in the family, especially to the sideboard ! 
Prohibition was not in his creed. Both these 


MR. POINDEXTER AND FATHER TITUS. 203 


gentlemen at the present moment were a little too 
free in spirit. Their tongues being oiled, they 
glibly revealed too many church secrets. 

w Father Titus ! Tell me ! What is the secret 
of your wonderful success in America?” said 
Poindexter as they sat in the smoking-room of 
the Gildersleeve mansion. 

"Well, sir! First, organization. We are the 
strongest organized body in the world. Obedi- 
ence to the church is our first law. We obey the 
church through the Bishop. His word is the 
divine fiat. When he speaks, the great army of 
priests execute his mandates. Millions of hearts 
beat as one. By the confessional, and our secret 
orders, we penetrate every private chamber, con- 
vict’s cell, court, conclave, and every secret con- 
venticle. Our spies are like Elisha, who 'telleth 
the words thou speakest in thy bedchamber.’” 

"Well, I confess,” said Poindexter, "that 
Liberalism is deficient in organization ; hence our 
failure.” 

" No, not altogether,” said Titus. "You have no 
zeal, no ardor to hold men together. No faith. 
Zeal springs from faith. The Puritans were 
zealous — men of conviction ; so are we. Our poor 
followers will do anything for the church ; make 
any sacrifice ; fast, pray, go to early mass exposed 
to storm or cold ; do penance, confess, repent, and 


204 


LIBERALISM VS. CATHOLICISM. 


give their last cent, all for the priest and the 
church.” 

" Still your army don’t increase with the in- 
crease of population.” 

"No, we have some drawbacks. Free schools 
destroy faith. Many fall away. But the school 
question will be soon settled. Our children will 
attend our own schools.” 

"Then ignorance is still the mother of devo- 
tion?” 

"No, not exactly. Yet many of our purest 
saints are those that cannot read. They can say 
the rosary, and make the sacrifice.” 

" Yes ! ” said Poindexter. " The poor make the 
sacrifices, but how about the rich? How about 
the priests? How about fast horses, liquors, 
cigars, and those amiable ' Nieces’ ?” 

"Well, the priests are not all abstemious, I 
confess. But as they are sworn to celibacy, having 
no family privileges, they may be pardoned.” 

" It is astonishing to see the faith that the poor 
people have and how easily they are deceived by 
you.” 

"Yes. They may be deceived. They are 
taught that the priest can do no harm. Taught 
that he stands in the place of God, hears confes- 
sion, pronounces absolution, and the Almighty 
would not allow him to do wrong. Thus we are 
above suspicion.” 


MR. POINDEXTER AND FATHER TITUS. 205 


" Your church assumes to cater to all tastes, to 
supply every kind of spiritual needs.” 

" Assumes? We do it!” said Father Titus 
with an air of triumph, and helping himself from 
the Bourbon decanter. 

These frequent libations were beginning to tell 
on the priest. His tongue was becoming loosened, 
much to Poindexter’s satisfaction and amusement, 
who continued to ply him with questions. 

"Yes,” continued the priest, "the Catholic 
Church is the true Universal Church. It meets 
the requirements of every class. Ignorance and 
culture flock to our holy standard. Meet on 
equal ground. We recognize no privileges of 
rank or condition. Look at our converts. They 
come from every rank in society ; not only the 
poor, but the rich. Strange though it may seem, 
our ranks are rapidly filling even from men of 
your own creed, brother Poindexter. There is a 
culminating point in faith as in physics, when all 
beyond is chaos. Liberalism tends to that point. 
When reached, then the work of the Catholic 
Church begins. We find a man figuratively 
drowning, and reach out to him the saving hand. 
A sinking man will grasp even at a straw, you 
know. Witness our departed friend, whose good 
liquors we are now discussing. Thus you have 
the spectacle of a man of culture, of refinement 


206 


LIBERALISM VS. CATHOLICISM. 


and wealth, who has cut loose from all faith, de- 
nying religion, denying God, denying Christ, and 
at last in his despair ready, nay ! eager to wor- 
ship a wafer ! Ah ! Brother Poindexter/’ con- 
tinued Father Titus facetiously, " I shall only be 
too happy to be at hand at the time of your 
need ! ” 

And the priest laughed heartily at the conceit, 
while again having recourse to the decanter. 

Poindexter said nothing for a moment. He 
felt something of the truth of the priest’s re- 
marks, but did not care to acknowledge it. He 
thought of his own limited congregation. It was 
daily growing " small by degrees and beautifully 
less.” At length with a feeling of envy he said, 
"Your church is certainly a powerful one. Father. 
Even the politicians are afraid of you.” 

" The politicians ! ” cried Father Titus, disdain- 
fully. " Of course ! We hold them in the hol- 
low of our hand : they know the value of the 
votes w r e control. Since * Know Nothing’ days, 
no politician dare throw down the gauntlet to the 
Holy Catholic Church ! You tender Protestants 
were shocked at your own illiberality in perse- 
cuting Catholics, — almost disfranchising them. 
The revolution in public feeling came, brought 
about by your own uneasy consciences. Ha ! 
ha ! It was a grand thing for us. It is what we 


MR. POINDEXTER AND FATHER TITUS. 207 


ever aim to effect. Proscription, persecution, 
martyrdom ! These are our glory.- From these 
come our strength. The blood of the martyrs 
is the seed of the church, you know.” 

" But there was, in fact, no bloodshed.” 

" No, but there was plenty of loud talk about 
it. I saw men in those days, even here in Boston, 
eager to dye their hands in Catholic blood. Ah ! 
if they had only done it ! We looked for it, 
longed for it, prayed for it, and did everything to 
precipitate a massacre ! Would you believe it ? 
Some of the most rabid agitators in the 'Know 
Nothing ’ counsels were secretly our agents ; at 
heart the most fervid Catholics.” 

Poindexter passed the decanter at this point. 
He saw the usually cautious priest was getting 
into a vein of braggadocio from the effects of the 
liquor, and was just in the mood for letting out 
secrets. The Liberal preacher inwardly hated the 
priest. He was not ignorant of Father Titus’s 
growing influence in the Gildersleeve family, and 
he resented what he considered an encroachment 
on his own particular domain. 

" Speaking of politicians,” said Poindexter, 
"you refer, of course, to the Democratic party.” 

"By no means. Republican officials are not 
exempt from our influence any more than are 
Republican newspapers.” 


208 


LIBERALISM VS. CATHOLICISM. 


"But your power is strongest among Dem- 
ocrats. To paraphrase Horace Greeley’s famous 
saying, — I do not say that all Democrats are 
Catholics ; but I do say all Catholics are Demo- 
crats, I have yet to see a single exception. 
Now, Father Titus, in what does your hold on the 
Democratic party consist? ” 

" In this, brother : The policy of our church in. 
every country is to side with the minority party ; 
to gain their gratitude by substantial help, so that 
when the day of prosperity arrives we may ride 
with them into power. In America the Demo- 
cratic party best subserves our ends and aims, — 
through that party, which is strong in the great 
cities, our influence is felt in every department of 
municipal government. The bulk of our strength 
lies in the cities. Yes, Brother Poindexter, our 
church is a powerful organization. To sum up, 
the poor believe in us. The Democrats swear by I 
Us. Politicians are afraid of us. Convicts cling 
to us as to an ark of refuge. Gamblers who rev- 
erence nothing else, reverence our religion. Be- 
fore the priests they take their hats off and humbly j 
say, ' Your Reverence .’ In short, wherever sin, 
poverty, and crime exist in large masses, there is 
our harvest-field, and there we reap a prolific 
harvest ; for Holy Mother Church alone supplies 
the great want of nature, — shifting upon herself, 


MR. POINDEXTER AND FATHER TITUS. 209 


the burden of moral and spiritual responsibility, 
and taking away the fear, the dread, the very 
sting of death. The true test of religion is the 
death-bed. It is only the child of the true church 
whose pathway to heaven is made smooth and 
placid, and devoid of every source of terror.” 

"D. L. Moody, the Revivalist, claims as much 
for his peculiar creed,” said Poindexter. " His 
labors extended over the same ground as that of 
your church. He drew criminals, drunkards, 

' paupers into the fold ! Drew them in by thou- 
sands. He must have proved a thorn in the flesh 
to you Catholic priests.” 

" Ha ! ha ! ” laughed Father Titus. " That is 
rich, indeed. Moody never gained a single con- 
vert from us, if that is what you mean. Why, 
as an inducement to the poor, he enticed them by 
feeding large numbers at the Tabernacle. Well, 
they ate his earthly bread, but could n’t stomach 
his spiritual sustenance. On Fridays he gave 
them pork and beans. The Catholic instinct was 
too strong. They ate the beans, but left the pork 
on their plates ! No! Not even paupers can be 
tempted to go back on the church. They may 
starve, hunger may gnaw at their vitals, but they 
will die rather than forsake the Mother Church 
which has nurtured them.” 

"You hinted at controlling the newspapers?” 

U 


210 


LIBERALISM VS. CATHOLICISM. 


Father Titus nodded. 

"That explains, then, why no scandals against 
the priests are ever made public?” 

"Partly,” said Father Titus, mysteriously. 

" While a poor Protestant minister, if he makes 
a faux pas, sees his name blazoned in every print,” 
said Poindexter. 

"That is the advantage of belonging to the 
priesthood,” said Father Titus with a wink and a 
leer. "We, you see, are virtually a secret body, 
and every priest is interested in concealing the 
peccadilloes of his brother priests.” 

"Take care, Father Titus! Take care! some 
day some of these scandals may leak out, and 
let light in upon your secret doings.” 

" Oh ! that would be impossible,” said the 
priest, as he rose to go, "for if any of our parish- 
ioners should fall into our trap and then expose 
us ! Why, they would be excommunicated, and 
then be looked upon by the congregation as 
lunatics.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


ROSE DELANEY GOES TO CHURCH. — SPIDER AND FLY. 

Father Titus is seated in his confessional. 
On one side is Hose Delaney, dark-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked, sparkling in her youthful beauty. On 
the other an old woman, wrinkled, blear-eyed, 
palsy-stricken. Old Bridget pours forth her con- 
fession with enthusiasm. The priest to her is as 
the ear of Heaven. 

"Ah! Sure,” she would say on seeing the 
priest’s eyes closed as if inattentive to her mum- 
bled confession, — " sure an’ the blissed father is 
wearied wid his hard labors. But no matter! 
Me confission goes right straight up through hiui 
ter the Blissed Virgin.” 

So Bridget continued to mumble, — 

" Shure I ate mate lasht Friday by mishtake, 
an’ it ’s back in my church dues I am too, an’ I 
forgot to sind little Patsey to his catechism, an’ 
mist mass three times the week.” 

And Bridget went on to catalogue her many 
sins and misdoings of the past week into the ear 
of the inattentive priest. 


212 


ROSE DELANEY GOES TO CHURCH. 


To all of which Father Titus responded absently, 
giving the usual light penances, as " Say three 
'Hail Marys,’ ” etc. 

All this time Father Titus’s eyes were furtively 
directed toward the young girl waiting her turn 
on the other side of the confessional. He had 
slyly pushed aside the slide on that side in order 
to see who his next penitent was to be. This was 
Rose Delaney, — a married woman, though scarcely 
more than a child in years. 

Her face was new to Father Titus. And a very 
attractive face it was. So thought the priest, at 
any rate. 

Rose noticed how the priest’s eyes wandered 
toward her. Her chief foible was vanity. She 
was extremely pretty, and she knew it. Flattery 
was sweet both to her ears and to her sight. She 
craved attention, hence she felt flattered at receiv- 
ing such particular notice from a priest, and re- 
turned his sidelong glances with demure looks 
that spoke a language all their own. It was not 
the language of invitation, however, for Rose’s 
heart was as yet innocent of guile. Ah ! The 
poor fly was already fluttering on the edge of the 
web ! 

" What a charming young girl l I wonder who 
she can be ? This is certainly her first confession 
here. By the Holy Saints ! Her beauty would 


SPIDER AND FLY. 


213 


stir an anchorite’s heart. Ah ! — h — h ! Is she a 
new convert ? Has she been confirmed ? Has she 
yet chosen a confessor ? If not, why — ” 

Such were the thoughts running through Father 
Titus’s mind, while apparently listening to old 
Bridget’s confession. 

" Bah ! I must get rid of this tiresome Bridget 
Flannagan; she would go on from now to eter- 
| nity.” 

And Father Titus hurriedly cut short Bridget’s 
I catalogue of wrong doing, sputtered out a few 
penances, abruptly closed the slide, and as quickly 
pushed fully open the one before which Rose 
Delaney knelt.” 

w In nomine P atria et ftlius et spiritus sanctus .” 
Father Titus rolled out the sonorous blessing with 
| something more than his usual unction. His 
voice had a deeper cadence, his eye, as it fastened 
itself upon the blushing countenance of his fair 
penitent, emitted a kindlier beam. 

The preliminary offices of confession over, the 
priest, departing from the usual custom, led the 
young girl on to relate something of her personal 
history. His curiosity in this case was not to be 
satisfied by ordinary inquiries. To Bridget Flan- 
nagan he had 'given five minutes, Rose Delaney’s 
confession lasted nearly half an hour, and, singu- 
larly, neither found it very wearisome. 


214 ROSE DELANEY GOES TO CHURCH. 

"What is your name, my daughter?” 

" Rose Delaney, your reverence.” 

" Ah ! A sweet, pretty name indeed ! And a 
very appropriate one, too, my dear. ' Rose ’ is 
highly suggestive of beauty.” 

And Father Titus gave her one of his most 
benign glances. This was the very oil of praise 
to the simple girl. 

" Have you recently moved into the neighbor- 
hood, my dear?” 

"Yes, father.” 

"Then I may hope to see you often at this 
church.” 

" I shall not fail to come, father.” 

"And you will come to confession regularly, 
once a week, my daughter?” 

"Yes, your reverence.” 

" Where do you reside ? ” 

Rose told him the street and number. 

"Are your parents members of the Catholic 
Church ? ” 

"No, your reverence. I was brought up a 
Protestant.” 

" Ah ! You have been snatched, then, as a 
brand from the burning. Thanks be to the Holy 
Virgin ! Perhaps you may yet be the means of 
rescuing your parents from endless misery.” 

" My father is dead, your reverence. But my 
mother still lives ! ” 


SPIDER AND FLY. 


215 


" You reside with your mother, then?” 

"No, father,” Rose answered with a little hesi- 
tancy, " I live with — with my husband ! ” 

Father Titus was intensely surprised at this. 
He looked at Rose as if scarcely able to credit the 
statement. She seemed so very young, — so 
much like a child ! 

" How long have you been married, my 
daughter ? ” 

"Three years, father.” 

"Indeed! You were married very young, I 
should say, my child. Is your husband a Cath- 
olic ? ” 

" Oh, yes, your reverence.” 

" Ah ! Then we owe your conversion to the 
true faith to your love for him ! ” 

"Assuredly, father, I love my husband very 
much. If I had not loved him so dearly, I could 
never have withstood my dear mother’s prayers 
and pleadings against my joining my husband’s 
church. It was a very bitter struggle, father.” 

"It will redound to your glory in this world 
and in the next, dear daughter. Have you any 
children?” 

"Two, father.” 

" What is your husband’s business ? ” 

" He is just now out of work, your reverence. 
He is confined at home by an attack of rheuma- 
tism.” 


216 ROSE DELANEY GOES TO CIIURCJH. 

"Ah! Well, a true son of the church must 
needs find friends who will assist him. I do not 
know hut that I can be of help to Mr. Delaney. 
You may come to my house at eight o’clock this 
evening, and I will see if something cannot be 
done for your husband. Will your duties permit 
you to come at that hour ? ” 

Father Titus’s eyes were devouring the charms 
of Rose Delaney while uttering these words. His 
greedy gaze wandered over her graceful figure, 
taking in the rounded contours and swelling out- 
lines with a satisfaction that would have fright- 
ened its object could she have read the meaning 
of its expression aright. 

Reader, you have seen the spider lying perdu in 
the darkest corner of his web. Seen him watch 
the gaudy colored flies buzzing near his mesh. 
Now one ventures on the outer circle. Curiosity 
draws her nearer and nearer. Now her wings are 
entangled, and buzz ! buzz ! flutter ! flutter ! and 
for this time she escapes. The watchful spider 
stirs not. 

" Ah ! ” says the silly fly, " what a beautiful 
palace is this ! What happiness to dwell there ! 
I must explore those pleasant walks, peep into 
those beautiful chambers ! Ah ! I could live 
there forever ! ” 

Again she ventures. Her feet tread the mazy 


SPIDER AND FLY. 


217 


walks. Her wings flit against the silken walls. 
Onward she goes, unconscious of the unseen gossa- 
mer falling about her, seeing not the destroyer 
waiting in ambush. Suddenly she stops, fright- 
ened. Tries to retreat. Alas ! it is too late. In 
vain the poor victim writhes and twists. There is 
no help. She is fast in the toils ! Now the enemy 
shows himself. Darts like a flash upon his prey. 
Web after web with lightning speed is spun over 
the victim, until a shroud of death is around her. 

Thus did Father Titus entrap the unwary Rose 
Delaney. Thus did he first arouse her curiosity, 
then allured her by pleasant anticipations, and at 
last led his victim on to the consummation of his 
dark and sinful plans. 

But Rose Delaney was ignorant that the priest 
was actuated by any other than the worthiest 
motives, — motives of pure benevolence and kind- 
heartedness. So she answered that she wou’d 
call at the parsonage at the time specified, and 
with this he dismissed her. 

Rose Delaney hastened home with a light heart. 

" Oh ! John ! ” she exclaimed to her husband, as 
she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. 
* Cheer up ! I have got real good news to tell 
you.” 

" Ah ! Well, what is your good news, Rosie?’’ 
said John, smiling at her happy face and joyous 
manner. 


218 ROSE DELANEY GOES TO CHURCH. 

"Well, I have been to confession, John, to 
the ' Gates of Paradise ’ church. The father 
confessor is a splendid man.” 

" Ah ! You like him, then ? What is his name, 
Rosie ? ” 

" Father Titus.” 

" Oh ! yes ! I have heard of him. He has a 
very high standing among the clergy. I believe 
he is the Bishop’s right-hand man, and is in- 
trusted with much of his confidential business. 
Father Titus’s reputation for zeal and sanctity 
is second to none in the diocese, so I have 
heard . ” 

"I have no doubt of it, John. Oh! I do so 
long to hear him preach. I know I shall never 
be satisfied to go to any other church save his in 
future.” 

"Well, we will take seats there as soon as I 
can get to work again, Rosie.” 

" That puts me in mind, John. The good 
father inquired all about us. One thing led to 
another, and he said he thought he could be of 
assistance to you. He invited me to call at the 
parsonage this evening, and he would try and 
arrange something for you. Too bad your rheu- 
matism is so bad that you cannot go with me, 
John ! ” 

"I am sorry, too. But you can tell Father 


SPIDER AND FLY. 


219 




Titus that I shall come to church just as soon as I 
can get out again. You must invite him to call 
and see us, Rosie. It was very kind in him to 
interest himself in a perfect stranger. ” 

" That is so, John. I really almost fell in love 
with him, he is so good and kind. Don’t you be 
jealous now, John,” she added, playfully. 

" Oh ! I don’t mind your falling in love with a 
priest, Rosie,” said John, fondly. " That kind of 
love would only be a spiritual affection, com- 
pounded more of reverence than of any other 
sentiment. Such love we are enjoined to feel for 
the ministers of our Holy Church. I know that 
you love me, Rosie, dear, and I have no fear that 
you will ever give me any just cause for being 
jealous of you.” 

" I guess not ! ” said Rose emphatically. " You 
are the dearest fellow in the world, John. I 
should like to see the man that could maKe me 
swerve one hair’s breadth from my loyalty to you. 
A wife with such a good husband, a mother with 
two such darling children as I have, would be a 
monster of deceit and ingratitude if she could 
allow her thoughts to wander for one moment 


from them.” 

Rose spoke from her heart. She believed 
implicitly what she then uttered. Would the 
time ever come when she would recall those 


220 ROSE DELANEY GOES TO CHURCH. 

words with bitterness and regret? Would she 
ever feel the maddening sting of remorse and 
despairingly look back to that happy moment 
v when the world held nothing so precious to her 
soul as her loved husband and idolized children ? 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE JEALOUSY OF A NIECE. — ROSE’S TEMPTATION 
AND FALL. 

During the rest of that day Father Titus’s 
thoughts dwelt more on the coming interview 
with Rose Delaney than was quite consistent with 
the proper observance of his many duties. 

The parsonage was a stately old mansion for- 
merly belonging to one of Boston’s oldest families. 
An old-fashioned house, but abounding in modern 
comforts. 

Father Titus’s tastes were of the luxurious order. 
His study, sitting-room, and bedroom were sump- 
tuously adorned. Creature comforts were on 
every hand. 

It was evening, and in dressing-gown and slip- 
pers Father Titus was seated before a genial fire 
in the open grate of his sitting-room. He pre- 
sented a picture of negligent ease and what he 
would call solid comfort. At his right hand stood 
a table on which were some books and news- 
papers, together with glasses and a decanter of 
wine. The latter was just now receiving much 
more of his attention than the former. 


22 2 


THE JEALOUSV OF A MECE. 


Reaching out at last to a hand-bell, he struck 
it sharply. A servant entered. 

" Katy, request my niece to come here,” said 
the priest. 

The servant departed. In a moment the door 
again opened and a tall, handsome woman ap- 
proached the priest. 

” What do you want?” she demanded, brusquely. 

The priest turned and gave her a glance, then 
helped himself from the decanter, and said, — 

" So ! you are in one of your tantrums again, 
my gentle Marie ? ” 

" I asked you what you wished to see me for ? ” ; 
said the woman, still coldly, her lips twitching 
nervously. 

" First explain to me what has put you out of 
sorts to-day, and I will answer you, my sweet 
niece,” said Father Titus mockingly, with the evi- 
dent intention of adding to her irritation. 

" Niece /” exclaimed Marie in strong disgust. 

" Can you not drop your hypocritical mask even 
when we are alone ? What need of keeping up 
the ridiculous farce with no one but ourselves to 
witness it ! ” 

" Hush ! silly girl ! The very walls may have ; 
ears ! But you have not answered my question, j 
Tell me what has displeased you, my charmer? ” 

And Father Titus caught her hand and com- 
menced to fondle it. 


hose’s temptation and fall. 


223 


The action somewhat mollified Marie. 

" Come, have I done anything to vex you, 
Marie?” said the priest again, but in a kinder 
tone. 

" You vex me continually, Herman,” said Marie, 
softening. 

" Well, what is the special grievance to-day?” 

" I was at church this morning — ” 

" What ! At church? I did not see you.” 

"No, I took care that you should not. But I 
saw you and all that transpired.” 

"Oh ! You did, eh? You didn’t come to con- 
fession, I take it?” sneered the priest. "That 
would be needless, my dear Marie, since here you 
may confess to me in private ad libitum .” 

Marie did not deign to reply to this sarcasm. 

" I went to church for a purpose.” 

" Most people do ! ” said Father Titus dryly. 
So dryly in fact that he felt compelled to moisten 
his palate on the instant with another glass of 
wine. 

"Well, what was your purpose in going to 
church, my dear?” he continued. 

"To watch yo?/, Herman Titus.” 

" The deuce ! ” said Father Titus to himself. 
"Marie is certainly getting jealous. Somebody 
has been putting a flea into her ear. It is de- 
cidedly inconvenient just at this juncture, when I 


224 


THE JEALOUSY OF A NIECE. 


am expecting the young and interesting Eose 
Delaney here every moment. I must get our 
jealous Marie away for the evening somehow.” 

Then to Marie he said, — 

"To watch me? You are beside yourself, my 
dear. Or have you turned spy for our good 
Bishop?” 

" You know what I mean,” said the woman. "I 
have suspected you were playing fast and loose 
with me for some time. I saw the young and 
pretty girl who made such an exceedingly long 
confession to you to-day ! ” she added significantly. 
" Is she to be my successor here ? Is she to play 
the role of another of your nieces?” 

"Decidedly, I shall have to ship this jealous 
Marie oflf to a nunnery,” said Father Titus sotto 
voce. Then aloud he added, — 

" Marie, your remarks are in very bad taste. 
You are not in an amiable mood, and I am afraid 
I shall have to give you a penance to exorcise this 
bad spirit. I was thinking of spending a sociable 
evening with you, and so sent for you, as I ex- 
pected to be alone to-night. But to my sorrow, 
I see I must order it otherwise. So put on your 
things, my dear, and go out and visit poor Mrs. 
Branagan. She is quite ill, you know. After 
that you can call at Tim Mul looney’s, whose fam- 
ily are reported to be in very destitute circum- 


rose’s temptation and fall. 225 

stances since Tim fell from the staging of the 
church a month or two ago. I will make you my 
almoner. Here are a few dollars. I need not 
caution you to use care and discretion, and not be 
too liberal in dispensing the Lord’s money. I 
hope 3 r ou will pass a pleasant evening, my dear. 
What ! Are you not going ? ” 

For Marie made no offer to take the money or 
to stir. 

"No, I am not going a step!” she exclaimed, 
defiantly. 

Father Titus arose slowly to his feet. An entire 
change came over his countenance. His features 
hardened into rigid lines. His brows drew 
together. His eyes flashed out sparks of angry 
fire. He walked close up to the now cowering 
Marie. 

" Do you mean to disregard my wishes, woman I ” 
he said, in deep chest tones. " Will you compel 
me to — ” 

But there was no need of carrying out his 
threat. Marie, frightened by his menacing man- 
ner, which perhaps recalled some former harsh 
experience that she had no wish to have repeated, 
bowed her head submissively, silently took the 
money, and left the room. 

A few minutes afterward Father Titus heard 
the street door close. Again he summoned the 
servant. 


22 6 


THE JEALOUSY OF A NIECE. 


" Katy , was that Miss Marie who just went out ? ” 

" Yis, your rivirince.” 

"Very well, you may go.” 

The priest resumed his seat, eying the clock 
anxiously. The hands had hardly indicated the 
hour of eight, when there was a ring at the door. 
A little later Katy ushered Rose Delaney into the 
room and discreetly departed. 

" Ah ! My dear, you are punctual as the 
clock,” said Father Titus, rising and leading Rose 
to a seat beside his own. " Sit down, my daughter. 
Why, I declare ! you look as fresh as a daisy. 
How your eyes sparkle, my child ! The cold air 
has painted your cheeks like the damask rose. 
But your little hand is as warm as I am sure is 
your heart ! ” 

And good Father Titus continued to press 
and fondle the soft, moist hand of Rose Delaney in 
the most fatherly and paternal way imaginable. 

Rose felt at first a little uneasy and embarrassed 
at the priest’s familiarities, but in her vanity and 
simplicity she thought no harm of it. 

"And how is your good husband, daughter 
Rose? ” asked Father Titus. 

" He is very well, with the exception of his 
rheumatism, father. He wished me to give you 
his regards, and say that as soon as he is able he 
intends to join the ' Gates of Paradise ’ church.” 


rose’s temptation and fall. 


227 


"I am very glad to hear it, my dear,” said the 
priest, rubbing his hands. "And that brings me 
to the subject about which I desired you to call 
upon me.” 

"About my husband, father?” said Rose. 

" Yes, my dear. I have a situation at my 
church for a responsible and faithful man. The 
duties are light, but they will require constant 
attendance. Now when I have seen your husband 
I can decide more fully. Meantime you can tell 
me something about him, so that I may be pre- 
pared to judge. Of course, now, for instance, 
you live happily together ? ” 

The priest eyed the girl keenly, while not 
seeming to do so. 

" Oh yes, father,” said Rose, with a little laugh. 
” John is one of the best-natured men living. 
We love each other very dearly.” 

" Excellent, my dear, excellent,” said Father 
Titus, again rubbing his hands, as if his benevo- 
lent soul was highly gratified at such indications 
of connubial felicity. "I am delighted to hear 
that peace and happiness reign in your house. 
Let it ever be so, my daughter, let it ever be 
so.” 

And the priest again softly patted Rose’s dainty 
little hand. 

" Oh, there is no danger of its being otherwise, 


228 


THE JEALOUSY OF A NIECE. 


father,” said Rose. " I am sure John will ever be 
kind and considerate, and I know that I would 
never do anything to. displease him.” 

" Let that spirit ever animate you, my child,” 
responded the priest. " But excuse my lack of 
hospitality. Will you not take a drop of wine 
after your long walk ? I am sure it will do you 
good, my dear.” 

And Father Titus filled one of the glasses from 
the decanter, and passed it to Rose. 

"Thank you, father, I — I don’t care if I do 
take a little, although I am not used to drinking 
wine.” 

" It will do you no harm. You know the apos- 
tle recommends a little wine for the stomach’s 
sake.” 

Rose really did not wish the wine. But she 
had little independence of character and feared to 
displease the priest by declining. She took a sip 
or two, and would then have put down the wine- 
glass, but Father Titus gently urged her to drink 
the remainder, and she at length complied. 

"Do you not feel better, now, my dear?” asked 
the priest, drawing his chair somewhat closer to 
hers. 

Rose, in fact, already felt a strange warm glow 
at her heart ; her eyes fairly danced in a humid 
light ; and the wine imparted au added flush to 
her whole countenance. 


rose’s temptation and fall. 


229 


" I never drank so muck wine in my life,” she 
answered. " I had no idea it had such a pleasant 
effect. Yes, I certainly do feel better. Oh ! I 
feel as if I must get right up and sing or dance. 
But foigive me, father, I forgot under this strange 
excitement in whose presence I am.” 

" There is no need of apology, my dear,” said 
the priest, his own face glowing, but not alto- 
gether from the effects of the wine he had drank. 
" Young folks will be young folks. As a general 
thing, however, we priests do not favor dan- 
cing.” 

"Yet Miriam danced before the Lord,” inter- 
posed Rose, wondering at her own audacity in 
thus arguing with a priest. 

"I should have said as it is practised nowa- 
days,” amended the priest. " Ah ! This familiarity 
with the Bible is the fruit of your Protestant 
training, my dear,” he continued, but not severely. 
" However, we shall work the old leaven out of 
your mind, my daughter, and instil in its place 
the more glorious and satisfying tenets of our 
own holy doctrines.” 

As if to carry out this idea more practically, 
Father Titus casually placed his arm along the 
back of Rose’s chair, and drew even closer to her, 
until she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. 

" Rose, my child,” said Father Titus, " I ’ve been 


230 


THE JEALOUSY OF A NIECE. 


thinking much of you ever since your confession 
this morning.” 

Rose looked pleased, hut said nothing. 

"Yes, my dear. I have thought continually 
about you. But let us try another glass of wine. 
Nay, my child, I would not counsel you to do 
anything to your injury,” he added, as Rose made 
some motion as if to object. 

" I have always been taught that indulgence in 
wine is wrong,” said Rose, timidly. 

" And so it is if carried to an unlimited extent, 
my dear,” said the artful priest, filling two glasses 
to the brim. "But this wine is more of a medi- 
cine than an intoxicant. Come, my dear, here ’s 
to your very good health and happiness. You 
can conscientiously drink that with me, for what- 
ever I, as your spiritual father, counsel you to do, 
you may do without fear and without reproach.” 

Rose said no more, but drank the wine. The 
former pleasurable effects were intensified by this 
second experiment. She felt every nerve in her 
body tingle ; then an agreeable, voluptuous languor 
stole over her. Her eyes closed, half sleepily. 
She felt the priest move nearer to her ; his arm 
fell around her waist, almost insensibly her head 
sank on his shoulder. She experienced no shock, 
no alarm. All those feelings of the woman, the 
wife, and the mother, w T hich should have risen up 


rose’s temptation and fall. 


231 


and warned her of her danger, which should have 
repelled the advances of the priest, seemed to be 
drowned in the spell which had been cast about 
her senses by the potent elixir that Father Titus 
had urged her to take. 

It was a delicious draught, a draught fraught 
with the sweets of Elysium. But it was tinctured 
with the vapors of moral death ! 

"Rose, my little darling,” she hears the voice 
of the priest murmur in her ear, " do you know 
that I love you?” pressing gently her cheek. 

Oh ! Why did not her guardian angel at that 
moment come to her aid? 

Why did not the voice of duty, honor, con- 
science, thunder in her ear! "Fly! Fly! Rose 
Delaney ! Your very soul is in peril ! ” One 
thought of home, of her loved husband and of her 
innocent children would have roused her to a real- 
izing sense of her awful danger. 

But alas ! those saving thoughts of home and 
children came not. She was bound in chains as 
rigid, as unyielding as the serpents’ folds that 
crushed the doomed Laocoon ! 

An hour passed by. 

"Oh! ’’cried poor Rose, sobbing, "what have 
I done ! What have I done ! Oh ! Father Titus, 
I can never, never see my husband and children 
again ! ” 


232 


THE JEALOUSY OF A NIECE. 


"Nonsense, Rosie,” said the priest, soothingly. 

" Oh ! It was so wrong, so wrong ! ” sobbed 
Rose. 

" Nay ! There has been no wrong, I solemnly 
swear to you, my child . I who have power from on 
high, I who am a priest of Heaven, I absolve thee, 
daughter, from all wrong, from every taint of sin. 
With me you can commit no wrong in the sight 
of Heaven. The Blessed Virgin looks with favor 
on those of her children who sacrifice themselves 
in her holy cause.” 

With such casuistry, Rose Delaney’s scruples 
were at length appeased. She came to believe 
that every word of the priest was as an emanation 
from Heaven. 

Before Rose Delaney left Father Titus’s house 
that night, she was compelled to take an oath 
upon her knees, — an oath of the most terrible and 
binding character, — an oath never to divulge 
what had transpired that night under the fear of 
pains and terrors which filled her very soul with 
dread and horror. 

As she rose from her knees the priest placed a 
roll of bank-notes in her hand, and then leading 
her down to the outside door, he murmured, — 

" Benedicite , my daughter. Peace be unto you 
and yours.” 


CHAPTEB XIX. 


ROSE’S REMORSE AND CONTRITION. — HAPPY HOME 
DESTROYED. 

Rose Delaney went home with a sorrowful 
heart. In a moment had fled hope, faith, inno- 
cence, heaven. She saw that all the gifts, flat- 
teries, and caresses of Father Titus had but one 
object, the ruin of her soul. Could she tell it to 
John? No ! He would lose his faith in all priests, 
throw up his situation, leave the church forever. 
Besides that dreadful oath ! Oh ! The anguish 
of that young heart ! The evening winds through 
the lattice whispered, " You have done wrong ! ” 

She tried to say her prayers, but a shadow stood 
between her and God. Hope from the spirit 
world had fled. The tender flower of innocence 
and beauty was now crushed, and the mother of 
two lovely babes was a prey to despair. The cold 
beams of the moon on the shutter reflected a 
colder heart of desolation. 

" Oh ! my dear little babes ! My sweet, sweet 
babes ! ” she whispered as she kissed them in the 
cradle. " Oh ! my babes ! Have I disgraced you ? 


234 rose’s remorse and contrition. 

Blasted you forever? Oh! John! John! I will 
tell all ! I will confess ! I will repent ! I will 
ask your forgiveness ! ” 

But there was no John Delaney present to wit- 
ness her sorrow, or hear her sorrowful confession. 
Perhaps, after all, it was as well, for the vase was 
already shattered, the pitcher broken at the foun- 
tain, beyond repair. 

" Oh ! What shall I do? What shall I do?” 
wailed the wretched woman. 

Wildly she wrung her hands in bitterest despair. 
Conviction had come to her like a sudden blast. 

" God forgive me, I was blind ! I have been 
deluded, deceived. This wicked priest deliber- 
ately planned my ruin. Pretended to be inter- 
ested in my family. Gave John his situation 
solely to cloak his wicked purpose. Oh ! Why 
did I not see through his dark designs ? Why 
did I not withstand temptation ! ” 

She threw herself in a chair, sobbing as if her 
heart would break. Again she started up and 
walked the floor. 

"Oh, John ! John ! What will you say? What 
will you do when you hear how I have deceived 
you? Perhaps he will kill Father Titus. In his 
agony and despair he would not know what he 
did ! Oh ! How can I confess ! How can I tell 
him of my disgrace ! ” 


HAPPY - HOME DESTROYED. 


235 


It was near midnight when Rose retired, weary 
and heart-broken from her conscience-stricken 
mind. And passers-by on the street might have 
heard the sobbing of a grief-stricken woman as 
she wept and cried aloud in despair. 

John Delaney did not return to his home until 
late that night, and when he did reach home Rose 
was in a heavy slumber, but every now and then 
John observed that she would sigh heavily, as if 
she had been crying. This worried him so that he 
determined to wake her. Just as the thought 
occurred to him she awoke, crying, ''Forgive me ! 
Forgive me ! ” And John, seeing that she had been 
dreaming, endeavored to soothe her to sleep again. 

* What have you been dreaming about, Rose ? ” 
said John. 

"Ob John!” said Rose, evasively, "I thought 
that yon had gone away and left me and the chil- 
dren, and that I had been the cause of it, and I 
was pleading to you to come back and asking 
your forgiveness. I awoke and found it was but 
a dream.” And Rose burst into tears. 

"There, there, never mind, Rose. You know 
dreams mean exactly the opposite, and such a 
thing would be impossible, for you know how I 
love you and the babies, and I know it would be 
impossible that you should ever he the cause of 
my ever having any such intentions.” 


236 rose’s remorse and contrition. 

" Oh, John ! You are so kind ! But where have 
you been so late? Why, I sat up for you until 
twelve o’clock.” 

" Well, Rose, I know I was out rather late, but 
it will not occur again. So now go to sleep, 
Rosie, and do not dream such wicked dreams 
again.” 

AH that night Rose laid awake thinking of what 
a base, heartless wretch she was. While her 
husband slept heavily beside her, she was silently 
sobbing. 

Morning came at last, and she arose and pre- 
pared a dainty breakfast for John. She strove in 
every way to minister to his comfort. Her con- 
trition took this womanly form. She was soft and 
gentle in her manner. Her voice took on an 
exquisite tenderness. John wondered at the 
change. lie felt new love spring up in his heart 
for her. He looked at her sad, tear-stained face. 

"Why, my dear,” he said at last, "what can 
be the matter with you ? What has happened ? ” 

"Nothing, John,” she murmured. 

"Nothing? Come now, Rosie, I know better. 
Why will you not tell me? Come, confide in your 
husband.” 

Confide in her husband? Confess her sin to 
him? Oh! Never till that moment did she see 
how hard that would be. Could she blast his 


HAPPY HOME DESTROYED. 237 

% 

happiness at one fell blow? Could she endure his 
anger, his misery, his despair? Could she stand 
before him and see those kind and loving eyes 
look down upon her with the blasting, withering 
reproach of a deceived and basely injured hus- 
band? No! no! Never! She could not do it! 
The canker of remorse must eat into the heart, 
must be her silent companion to the end of her 
days. Never could she know the comfort of shar- 
ing this awful burden with another ! Never pour 
into a sympathizing bosom the misery that wrung 
her own ! 


CHAPTER XX. 


MADAME CHASTINI AND FORCEPS. —TWO PARTNERS 
IN CRIME. 

At the South End there is a street made up of 
swell-front brick houses. It has at one time been 
a select quarter of the city, but has now fallen 
into the hands of various people who may best be 
described by the term " questionable.” 

One of these houses — the largest in the street 
— is occupied by a lady whose name adorns the 
front door in large gilt letters, — "Madame Chas- 
tini, Clairvoyant and Physician.” 

It was late in the afternoon of the day follow- 
ing the horse-race, that Madame Chastini was 
sitting earnestly engaged in conversation with 
Dr. Richard Forceps in a private room of her 
house. 

It may be as well to state that the madame 
sailed under two flags ; in other words, that to the 
outer world she was Madame Chastini, while to 
her very intimate friends — and Dr. Forceps was 
one of them — she was known by her proper and 
legitimate cognomen, namely, Jane Ripley. 


TWO PARTNERS IN CRIME. 


239 


"Well, as I was saying,” said the woman, 
" it ’s been up-hill work lately. We are running 
behind expenses, and if something don’t turn up 
mighty quick, Dick Forceps, we might as well 
sell out. In other words, you and I will have to 
dissolve partnership.” 

And the woman enforced her words with an 
emphatic shake of the head. 

"Now, just keep cool a minute or two, Jenny,” 
said the dentist. "You are just like all the 
women ; you rattle away like a platoon of raw 
recruits in the face of the enemy, never knowing 
what you are shooting at, or whether your guns 
are loaded and capped or not. Here I ’ve been 
trying to get a word in edgeways for five min- 
utes, and tell you what I ’ve come for. I ’ve good 
news for you, if you ’ll give me a chance to 
inform you about it.” 

" Good news ! ” exclaimed the woman. "It’s 
always good news with you, but of late it’s 
always turned out pretty bad in the end. Look 
at that last scrape we had, — that girl that cost us 
so much only a month ago. A year’s profits gone 
to the bad at one swoop. And how is it about 
the girl that ’s lying up-stairs now ? ” 

" Whom do you mean ? Sadie Burns ? ” 

"Yes, Sadie Burns, — burn me for ever having 
anything to do with the case ! ” 


240 


MADAME CHASTINI AND FORCEPS. 


" Why, I thought she was all right.” 

" Well, then, she ain’t. Nothing’s right with 
you and me nowadays.” 

" What ’s the trouble with the Burns girl ? Dr. 
Ring told me yesterday that she was coming round 
in apple-pie order.” 

"Well, she isn’t coming round at all, in my 
belief. And what if she does? There is no 
money back of her. No rich noodle to squeeze 
and get a pile out of. Nothing but the regular 
fee. And if she happens to peg out, why there ’s 
another heavy drawback.” 

" You are taking too dismal a view of things. 
Mother Ripley,” said Forceps, after a short pause. 
" Now listen to me, and get ready for a change of 
luck, for it ’s coming, I assure you.” 

"Well, I ’m listening. Let ’s hear this precious 
new rig you have got on the docket.” 

"That’s an ominous term for you to use, Jane,” 
said Forceps, jocosely. " On the docket ! That 
means the court calendar. I am sure I hope our 
names will never figure on that precious list.” 

" I won’t sit here to listen to such stupid jokes 
as that. Go on with this brilliant plan, or what- 
ever it is you were talking about,” put in the 
madame. 

Thus adjured, and seeing that his partner in 
iniquity was in no jesting mood, the dentist 


TWO PARTNERS IN CRIME. 


241 


drew his chair nearer to her, and in low tones 
said, — 

"Jenny, I ’ve been working up, for two or three 
months, a lay that will either be a Bull Run or 
an Appomattox to us. Either a crushing defeat 
or a victory that shall fill our pockets with the 
rhino.” 

In a few words he went on to inform her, what 
the reader is already acquainted with, in regard to 
Frank Gildersleeve and Minnie Marston ; only 
he forbore for reasons of his own to tell her who 
Frank really was, where he lived, and the position 
in society held by his family. 

"And now,” he continued, "the young noodle 
is to bring the girl here to-night, and you must 
be ready to receive her in your best manner. 
Play the part of the motherly matron and so 
forth ; you understand.” 

" And is he really going to marry the girl ? ” 
asked the woman. 

"That’s neither here nor there. It will make 
no difference in our plans whether he does or not. 
In either case we shall reap a rich harvest.” 

" But you hinted at a chance of being defeated 
in this plan ? ” 

" Only in case the girl has her suspicions 
aroused. And it will lay more in your power to 
prevent that than any one’s else. You will have to 
16 


242 


MADAME CHASTINI AND FORCEPS. 


employ great care to conceal the real character of 
the house, and see that none of its present occu- 
pants have access to the girl.” 

"I’ll take care of that, never fear,” said the 
woman, whose countenance had considerably 
brightened while the dentist w T as detailing his 
plans. " But does this young pigeon whom we are 
to pluck know what my real business is?” 

"Of course, or he wouldn’t bring her here. 
At first I had some difficulty with him on this 
point. He is soft as putty, you know, where a 
pretty girl is concerned, and was full of the idea 
of marrying her outright, acknowledging her to 
the world, and all that sort of thing. But I have 
him completely under my thumb, and in the end 
he will do anything I advise, especially as he fan- 
cies I am acting the part of a devoted and a dis- 
interested friend. No, that plan would not have 
suited me. And so I appealed to his pride, and 
several other considerations which I need not 
recapitulate, and the upshot was that he fell into 
my w r ay of thinking.” 

" Ah ! I see. He is going to fool her. Lead 
her to think that he has married her, and thus 
the more easily — ” 

" Hold on, Jenny. You are going too fast, as 
usual,” interrupted Forceps. " I have said nothing 
of the kind. But it will make no difference. 


TWO PARTNERS IN CRIME. 


243 


Think what you please. Married or not married, 
they both are in my toils, and nothing but such 
a sum of money as will make you and I rich for 
life will enable them to escape.” 

With a few words more of information and cau- 
tion, the dentist took his leave. 


OHAPTEK XXI. 


MINNIE’S WEDDING NIGHT. — DOUBTS AND FEARS. 

The time had now arrived when Frank Gilder- 
sleeve must marry Minnie Marston or have his 
crime exposed to the world. She would consent 
to no further delay. Marriage or exposure stared 
him in the face. 

At last Frank, for the twentieth time, promised 
to marry her. Perhaps, he thought, he could 
have a mock marriage. Induce Minnie to enter 
a house of malpractice, and there, by fair means 
or foul, get rid of the evidence of his crime. 

At twilight, Frank led Minnie through street 
after street, until they finally came to a plain 
brick house in a locality unknown to Minnie. 
This, Frank said, was the clergyman’s residence. 
Minnie shuddered and clung closer to Frank’s 
arm, an undefined dread creeping over her. 
Frank rang the bell, and they were shown up- 
stairs to the minister’s rooms. 

Minnie involuntarily shrank back. All was 
dark, save the feeble light from the lamps on the 


DOUBTS AND FEAUS. 


245 


street. A strange, mysterious fear came upon 
her. Was Frank again deceiving her? Was this 
to be a mock marriage? Minnie, faint and weary, 

| knew not what to say or do. 

The minister asked for the ring. Frank said 
he had none. Minnie uttered an exclamation of 
surprise, and fainted and almost fell to the floor. 
She had been brought up an Episcopalian, and 
thought the ring indispensable to the marriage 
service. Frank supported her in his arms, and 
tried to soothe her fears. 

The ceremony was performed. No ring, no 
certificate, no name or residence of clergyman 
given her. Minnie trembled in doubt and per- 
plexity. " Is this a minister of God ? ” she 
thought. "Am I really married? or is it all a 
mockery ? ” 

Weak and confused, Minnie was led from the 
house leaning on Frank’s arm. He endeavored 
to calm her, to allay her suspicions. But she 
thought, "He has wronged me once, will he not 
wrong me again ? ” 

Frank led Minnie on through various streets, 
until he came to a locality once the quarter of 
aristocracy, but now inhabited by quacks, fortune- 
tellers, and other questionable characters. 

Frank stopped at a house with the name 
"Madame Chastini” upon the door-plate. A 


24 G wixnie’s w::i'Dixa kigiit. 

wagon stood in the street with a long box in it. 
Minnie heard the expressman say to a coarse- 
featured woman at the door, — 

" Will there be any more to-morrow ? ” 

Minnie shuddered. Perhaps she might be the 
next victim carried away to an unknown grave. 
She thought of poor Jennie Clarke, the girl found 
floating in a trunk in Saugus River ; and her 
mind grew troubled with dark and ominous fore- 
bodings. 

" Have you the room I ordered all ready ? ” 
asked Frank. 

A few whispered words were passed between 
the woman and the young man, and then the 
two were ushered into the madame’s own room. 

"This is Madame Chastini, Minnie, my love,” 
said Frank, as he led the young girl to an easy- 
chair, and assisted her to remove her cloak. " Do 
you not feel better now, Minnie ? ” 

" The poor dear is not well. She looks real 
ill,” said the madame, compassionately. "Will 
you not let me get you something or other, my 
dear Mrs. Gildersleeve ? ” 

It was the first time Minnie had ever been ad- 
dressed by that name, and a faint but wan smile 
flickered over her countenance as she thanked her 
hostess. 

" I think we had better retire to our rooms, 
Frank,” she said, " if they are ready.” 


DOUBTS AND FEARS. 


247 


" You shall do so at once, and I will show you 
the way,” said Madame Chastini. " Poor young 
creature. I declare, your sweet face goes to my 
very heart. I had a daughter once — dead now, 
jalas ! — and you put me so much in mind of her. 
We shall be good friends, I know, my dear. 
This way, please.” 

And so saying, the woman led them up the 
stairs and through a long corridor to a large 
chamber handsomely furnished, and in which a 
cheerful fire glowed in an open grate. 

" Qood night, sir ; good night, my dear child. 
You will find a bell at the other side of the man- 
tel which communicates with my apartments. If 
you require anything, please ring. Once more, 
good night.” 

It was some minutes after the woman left the 
room before either of the two spoke. 

Frank seemed uneasy and disquieted, and 
walked the room with restless strides. At last 
Minnie called him to her. 

"What can be the matter with you, Frank?” 
she said. " You have acted so strangely ever 
since we set out from my boarding-house to-night. 
Oh ! I am filled with the strangest forebodings ! ” 

And the poor girl began to cry. 

"You are needlessly distressed, Minnie,” the 
young man said, approaching her and putting his 


248 Minnie’s wedding night. 

arm around her. " Nothing is the matter with 
me at all. Such a step as I have taken, without 
consulting any of my friends, naturally makes me 
somewhat serious, perhaps ; and then my appre- 
hensions about your own nervous state give me 
some uneasiness.” 

" You do not regret having married me, Frank ? ” 

" Regret it ! What put such a silly notion as 
that in your.head, Minnie ? No, indeed. But you 
are seriously ill,” he exclaimed, as Minnie sud- 
denly fell back, her head dropping upon her chest. 

She had indeed fainted ! 

When Minnie recovered consciousness, she 
found Frank bending over her, and noted, with a 
strange chill through her veins, the peculiar 
expression of his face. It seemed to be made 
up of anxiety, dread, and a settled, resolute pur- 
pose, very different from anything in her expe- 
rience of him before. 

" What did that strange expression mean ? ” 

But before she could give much reflection to 
the matter, Frank, on seeing her open her eyes, 
left her abruptly and without a word. 

"How strange he acts!” she said to herself. 
"Why did he go away? What is he about to 
do ? ” 

He came back while she was thus meditating 
and approached the bed. In his hand he had a 


DOUBTS AND FEARS. 


245 ) 

cup about half full of a dark-colored liquid whose 
pungent odor pervaded the room. 

w You are feeling better, my dear, are you not?” 
said the young man. 

"A little,” she answered, remarking that the 
hand which held the cup shook. 

" I am glad to hear it, my dear,” he answered. 
”1 have brought you a little drink, which Ma- 
dame Chastini prepared for you. She says it 
will do you good, and you had better drink it im- 
mediately.” 

He offered her the cup while speaking, and 
raising herself upon her arm, Minnie mechanically 
took it. 

A thought at the same moment flashed through 
her mind, — a strange and at the same time a ter- 
rible thought, induced perhaps by Frank’s strange 
manner, together with the nauseous fumes of the 
liquor he had given to her. 

" Take it away, Frank ! ” she cried, with a 
shudder, and obliging him to relieve her of the 
cup. "I cannot drink it now. Set it upon the 
table, and I will drink it perhaps by and by.” 

" Oh, take it now, Minnie,” he answered, and 
she thought his voice sounded harsh and husky. 
"It is late, and time you were asleep. You will 
not take the medicine at all if you neglect to do 


so now. 


250 


Minnie’s wkdding night. 


"I cannot, Frank. Do not urge me,” she 
pleaded, secretly frightened at his persistency, 
the dark suspicion in her mind thereby strength- 
ened. " I could not drink even a drop of water 
now. Perhaps I shall feel more like it presently.” 

"This is all childish nonsense, Minnie,” the 
young man said, for the first time in his life 
speaking to her impatiently. " You must drink 
this medicine. Madame Chastini is an experienced 
nurse, and she would not recommend anything 
for you that was not for your good.” 

But he could not overcome her resolution. The 
poor girl was thoroughly alarmed, and even dis- 
trusted her lover now. Her native shrewdness, 
however, counselled her to veil these feelings, 
hut she did not feel them any the less. 

Frank had great difficulty in concealing his 
anger at her obstinacy. He had been so strongly 
convinced by his evil genius, Richard Forceps, 
that it was necessary for him to pursue another 
line of conduct toward Minnie than his love for 
her and his own conscience had dictated at first, 
that her opposition had roused the worst side of 
his nature. 

Frank Gildersleeve, too, was a different man 
altogether from what he was when first introduced 
to the reader. His father’s death had made him in 
every sense his own master, and continued dissipan 


DOUBTS AND FEARS. 


251 


jtion and reckless debauchery had already poisoned 
| the springs of his bodily and mental health. He 
was, as has been seen, a mere puppet in the hands 
of the designing dentist, who had sounded both the 
ideeps and the shallows of the young man’s nature, 
and knew how to touch either as the exigencies of 
his plans required. 

j It was an unhappy day, indeed, that first 
brought Frank Gildersleeve and Richard Forceps 
j together, — unhappy for them both, as the sequel 
will show, but thrice unhappy for the younger 
man. 

” So you refuse to do as I wish, Minnie ? ” Frank 
asked, finally, and there was almost a menace in 
the tones of his voice. 

" Oh ! spare me ! spare me ! Frank ! ” exclaimed 
the poor girl, piteously. "Oh ! I fear you would 
have me commit a great wrong ! Oh ! how can I 
do as you wish ! How can I do this sin against 
God ! ” 

" Sin ! I do not ask you to commit a sin ! ” said 
Frank, nervously. 

" Oh ! Frank ! Frank ! I have put my life in 
your hands ! ” cried Minnie, sobbing. " I am all 
alone and unprotected. A stranger in a strange 
city. I have forsaken home, friends, — all for 
you. Oh! my poor, distracted parents! How 
they are weeping for their lost Minnie ! Oh ! 


252 


Minnie's wedding night. 


Frank! I implore you, do not deceive me! 
Think if you had a mother or sister so cruelly 
wronged ! How you would feel for them, weep 
for them, pray for them ! For their dear sake, if 
not for mine, oh ! spare me, Frank ! ” 

" Hush ! ” whispered Frank, hoarsely. " I say I 
shall not hurt you. You need not be alarmed, 
Minnie.” 

" Then why have you brought me to this mur- 
derous house ? Why not take me to your home ? 
Why not acknowledge me as your lawful wife ? ” 

" I dare not, Minnie ! ” burst out Frank. " Oh ! 

I dare not ! Society would cast me out ! My 
parents would disinherit me ! I should be ruined 
for life ! ” 

" Then why did you not tell me so before ? ” 
asked Minnie, sobbing. 

”1 dared not tell you before, Minnie! But 
enough of this. Will you or will you not take 
this drink?” 

" Please — oh please do not urge me ! Why, , 
oh, why are you so anxious that I should take i 
this potion ? ” 

" Why ? Have I not told you it was solely for 
your own good ? ” answered Frank. " But I sha’n’t 
stop here to bandy words with you, Minnie. You I 
have seriously displeased me, and I shall leave i 
you now to think undisturbed over the conse- I 


DOUBTS AND FKAttS. 


253 


quences of disobeying the first request your hus- 
band has made to you.” 

His words frightened her, and forgetting her 
weakness, she got off the bed and caught hold of 
his arm before he could gain the door. 

" Leave me, Frank ! ” she cried, wildly. " What 
do you mean? You would not leave me alone in 
this strange house. Oh ! You are only trying to 
frighten me. You would not leave me here alone 
and on our wedding night ! 

" Great heavens!” she went on, as a new fear 
assailed her. " Perhaps we are not married. 
Perhaps it was all a horrible mockery invented to 
deceive me. Oh, tell me, Frank, are my senses 
leaving me, or is my suspicion nothing but a sus- 
picion after all ? ” 

" Did I not take you to the clergyman’s house ? ” 
said Frank, yet his manner was so constrained that 
it only increased her fears. " Did you not stand 
up with me before him, and, while he pronounced 
the marriage service, did you not swear to love, 
honor, and obey me, till death do us part?” 

"True,” said Minnie. "But — but was that 
man a real clergyman ? ” 

"A real clergyman? Why, of course. I 
didn’t ask him to shoAV me his credentials, — his 
minister’s license,” said the young man mockingly. 
"I didn’t think it necessary.” 


254 


Minnie’s wedding night. 


"Oh ! forgive my foolish fears, Frank ! You 
do not know how perplexed and frightened I am- 
I was too ill to take any note of the surroundings. 
You took me to a strange part of the city and rang 
at a house, but it was so dark that I could not 
even see the name on the door, nor did I notice 
the street or its location. Oh I Frank ! I was 
too perturbed to heed all those things then, but 
now they come to my mind with a terrible force ! 
Even the room was dark ! you placed no ring on 
my linger ! I hardly saw the minister’s face, and 
fear I should not know him again if I saw him ! 
What was the clergyman’s name, Frank ?” 

" Oh ! Don’t bother about such matters now,” 
replied the other, evasively. " What good would 
it do you to know his name ? I am not sure either 
that I remember it correctly.” 

" Oh ! Frank ! Frank ! Do not deceive me ! 
His name must be on the marriage certificate ! ” 
" I think I forgot to ask for a certificate — 99 
" Forgot ! What, oh ! what does all this mystery 
mean ! 99 exclaimed Minnie, sadly. 

” There’s no mystery except what your imagina- 
tive brain conjures up,” said Frank, irritably. " So 
don’t talk any more about the matter. There ; 
get back to bed again, for I ’ve got some business 
to see about.” 

And he turned once more to leave the room. 


DOUBTS AND FEAES. 


255 


but Minnie again clung to him, and besought him 
not to leave her. 

"I must leave you, Minnie,” he said. "But do 
cease this silly and childish tirade. What are you 
afraid of? I am not going to desert you. I shall 
soon return. I am only going out for a short time 
on business.” 

And almost rudely thrusting her aside, he 
hurried out of the room. 

Hours went by and he did not return. Poor 
Minnie sat waiting for him, too anxious to go to 
bed, counting the strokes one by one as the clock 
rung out the passing time. At last the midnight 
chimes sounded from steeple to steeple, denoting 
the close of another day. 

And still Frank Gildersleeve came not. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


MINNIE DESERTED. — A STARTLING- REVELATION. 

All that night Minnie Marston was a prey to 
the most poignant anxiety. 

" Why don’t Frank come ? ” she moaned, peer- 
ing for the fiftieth time out of the window, as 
some solitary footfall echoed along the pavement. 
But she was doomed to disappointment. The 
footstep approached, then passed by, and Minnie 
again drew back to her couch. 

Suddenly she started up. She pressed her 
hands to her head. 

" Oh ! ” she cried. " Can it be that I am de- 
ceived? Has Frank deserted me? Has he per- 
suaded me to come to this strange place, left me 
among strangers the better to get rid of me ? Oh 
no ! no ! Perish the thought ! I wrong him ! 
He could not be so cruel. Hark ! There is 
another footstep ! This time it must be his. 
Yes ! It is he ! It is he ! ” 

Again the poor girl flew to the window. She 
listened. Her heart fluttered wildly. She could 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


257 


not see the man who was drawing near. So she 
ran to the door, and listened at the staircase. But 
the street door did not open, no familiar step 
ascended the stair. With a groan of bitterest 
disappointment, Minnie tottered back into the 
room. 

" I see it all now ! ” she murmured in despair, 
her hands dropping listlessly into her lap. " God 
help me ! I am deserted ! ” 

She wrung her hands in anguish at the thought. 

" But no ! I cannot, will not believe it ! Frank 
Gildersleeve a villain? Never! never! Oh! I 
could not have loved him so ! I could not have 
yielded my heart to a man so base ! No ! No ! 
Frank Gildersleeve cannot be so cruel, so heart- 
less ! ” 

This reflection changed the current of her 
thought. A ray of hope glimmered through her 
troubled soul. 

" Oh ! I have wronged poor Frank,” she con- 
tinued, regretfully. " How do I know what may 
have detained him? Perhaps he is ill. Perhaps 
— oh ! perhaps he is dead ! Surely he would not 
have left his Minnie — his own dear wife ! Why 
did he marry me unless he meant to repair — Ha ! 
What am I saying ! ” she exclaimed, again spring- 
ing to her feet. The thought suggested was a 
terrible one. 

17 


258 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


" What if I am not married, after all ! What 
if that marriage was a fraud, a sham ! Heaven 
forbid ! God could not permit such a shameful 
deed ! No ! No ! That gentleman I know was 
a true minister of God But the awful thought 
warns me of what I must do. I must rouse my- 
self to act! I will wait till morning. If Frank 
does not then come, I will search the city through 
but I will find him. If he is sick, I will take a 
wife’s place at his bedside, minister to his every 
want and comfort. If he is dead ! — ” and here 
her voice broke into a sob, " I will mourn him as 
no other on earth, not even the mother Avho bore 
him, can mourn for him. But if he be false ! ” 
and Minnie drew herself up, her eyes flashed and 
her bosom heaved, while her clinched hand was 
raised to heaven, — " if he be false, then, Frank 
Gildersleeve, you shall do me justice, acknowl- 
edge me as your wife before God and man, or 
learn what it is to rouse a woman most basely 
wronged and most cruelly betrayed ! ” 

Throughout that night Minnie maintained her 
weary watch. But Frank Gildersleeve came not. 
Morning found her pale and weak. She had not 
once closed her eyes. She crept to the bed and 
lay down. Exhausted nature claimed its dues, 
and she slept. It seemed more like a lethargy 
than natural slumber. 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


259 


Hours went by, and still she lay in that death- 
like trance. At last some sudden sounds — what 
they were she knew not — startled the young 
girl and she awoke. But the lethargy that was 
upon her seemed to bind every nerve and limb. 
She could not move, and the next instant she 
thanked God in her heart that she could not do so. 

Minnie had partially unclosed her eyes lan- 
guidly, as a sick person awakes from the effects 
of an opiate. She saw the chamber door slowly 
and cautiously move on its hinges. With an 
impulse which she could not have explained to 
herself, she again shut her eyes, and seemed as 
one in a profound slumber. 

The next instant the door was pushed wider 
and still wider open, and a woman’s face peered 
into the room. Her gross and evil-looking coun- 
tenance wore an expression of anxiety as she 
scrutinized the motionless form upon the bed. 
After a moment she turned, with her hand still 
on the door, and said in a whisper to some person 
in the passage-way, — 

" She is still asleep. Just the same as I left 
her an hour ago when I sent for you. I tell yer, 
doctor, I ’m just scart ! ” 

" Nonsense ! ” responded the other. w Scart at 
wliat ? Here ! Let me take a look at her ! ” 

And pushing the ogress aside, Dick Forceps 
tiptoed into the room. 


260 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


" By George ! ” he exclaimed. " I believe you 
are right, after all ! ” 

"You don’t mean it I” exclaimed the woman, 
less cautiously than before. "You’ve got me 
into a pretty scrape, Dick Forceps. If the gal ’s 
! gone and died on my hands, it ’ll ruin my business 
completely.” 

" Pshaw ! If she ’s dead you ’ve had no hand 
in it ; so you need n’t fret.” 

" That ’s true, but it ’II cause an inquest,” 
whined the harridan, "and that’ll be just as bad. 
It will expose me all the same.” 

"No, it won't. We can fix that all right, 
Mother Ripley,” said Forceps, reassuringly. " If 
she’s dead, why she pegged out from natural 
causes, unless — ” 

Forceps paused suddenly. 

"Unless what?” demanded Mother Ripley. 

" No matter,” said the dentist, shortly. 

" But it does matter,” retorted the virago. " I 
know well enough what you was a-goin’ ter say. 
You was goin’ ter say, r Unless the man that 
brought her here had given her a dose of something 
or rniher? Hang me for a witch, if that’s the 
case I ’ll make him sweat for it, sure ’s my name ’s 
Jane Ripley.” 

"You’re mistaken there,” hastily said Forceps. 
"Frank Gildersleeve ’s too chicken-hearted for 

i 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


261 


anything of that kind. No doubt he ’d be glad to 
get rid of the girl, but he has n’t got the grit to 
use any foul means. But see ; we’re wrong. The 
girl is merely asleep, after all. Look ! her bosom 
rises and falls naturally enough.” 

"Well, I declare you may set me down as a 
natural-born ! ” said Mother Ripley, greatly relieved 
as she perceived what Forceps had said was true. 
She had been deceived on entering Minnie’s chain- 
ber, not understanding the cause of her protracted 
sleep. The woman’s apprehensions were easily 
excited, and as she saw how still and death-like 
the girl lay, she had in her alarm despatched an 
urgent message for Dr. Forceps. 

"The fellow’ll have ter pay for this fright with 
all the rest, Dick,” she said, with a chuckle. 

" All right, that ’s your concern. Only, old 
lady, we go halves oil the whole thing, you 
understand.” 

" Oh, of course, a bargain ’s a bargain.” 

"And you needn’t fear to bleed Frank Gilder- 
sleeve, either. He can stand it.” 

"Oh, he can, eh?” echoed the woman with a 
greedy leer. " He ’s a high-flier, then, is he ? ” 

1 "You bet.” 

"Rich as a Jew, I ’ll be bound.” 

" If he ain’t his father was, and that ’s the same 
tiling.” 


262 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


" Come, now, Dickey,” said the woman, coax- 
ingly, "tell us who this young greenhorn is, — 
where he lives, all about him, in short.” 

" That ’s none of your concern,” answered For- 
ceps, his manner changing; "and it’s no part of 
our bargain, either. Pie ’ll pay the bill when the 
desired services are rendered. I ’ll see to that. 
That is all you need to have any interest in.” 

"Well, you are master here, Dick, and it ’s my 
place to obey orders. But I think from what 
you 've let out, that I could make a pretty good 
guess who this young swell is. Of course, that 
yarn about his being a partner of yours is ail 
bosh.” 

Forceps looked keenly at his companion. 

"Well,” he said, at last, "if you know or sur- 
mise anything, Mother Kipley, it ’s for your inter- 
est to keep it to yourself.” 

" You don’t s’pose I 'd mention it to anybody 
but you, doctor?” whined the woman in an 
injured tone. "Of course I would n’t. But 
between ourselves, you know,” she added, "when 
you intimated that the young fellow was so rich, 
it just flashed over me that he was a son of rich 
old Gildersleeve up there on the Hill, and — ” 

"Hush!” said Forceps, in a startled whisper, 
pointing to the bed, as Minnie made a sudden 
movement at this announcement. 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


263 


In fact, the young girl, lying there so admi- 
rably counterfeiting deep sleep, had overheard 
nearly every word of this conversation. 

Her sensations at the intelligence may be 
imagined. 

A moment more and she heard the door closed. 
Then she opened her eyes and found that she was 
alone. 

For a few minutes Minnie lay still and silent. 
Her eyes were suffused with tears. Her bosom 
heaved and tossed with the excess of her grief 
and agony. The veil had been torn aside. She 
knew that she had been deceived. Her idol had 
been shattered. 

Yes, she knew it all now. Frank Gildersleeve 
had wilfully, cruelly, wantonly abandoned her. 

"But for all that,” she cried, rousing herself 
and dashing away her tears, — "for all that, I am 
his wife. That knowledge shall nerve my heart. 
Heaven will lend me strength. For my parents’ 
sake, for my honor’s sake, above all, for the sake 
of my unborn child, Frank Gildersleeve shall be 
found. 

" Ha ! what was that they said about Frank not 
being the dentist’s partner? Oh! The villanous 
scheme ! It is all made plain to me now ! He is 
rich — his father lives on the Hill — what hill? 
Oh! If I only' could have learned that! I will 


264 


MINNIE DESEKTED. 


see Dr. Forceps, — he will tell me. Bat no! 
Am I demented ? That man is the prime mover 
of all. Yes ; it was he who has led Frank on to 
this cruel act! No. From him I can gain no 
help. But there is One, v she added, raising her 
tear-dimmed eyes to Heaven, — " there is One who 
will lead me. One who will see justice done to a 
poor innocent girl ! ” 

She threw herself on her knees by the bedside, 
and poured out her soul in fervent petition for aid 
to that Source whose ear is never deaf to the 
supplications of the humble and the pure in heart. 

Fortified and strengthened in her resolution, 
Minnie Marston, though still weak and ill, hastily 
put on her bonnet and shawl to sally out on her 
quest. 

But alas ! on attempting to leave the house, 
she was rudely repulsed. Madame Chastini told 
her she could not depart, and threatened direful 
things on her head if she tried to escape. Minnie 
returned to her room broken-hearted. 

For three days Minnie Marston was a prisoner 
in that house. For three long, weary days she 
watched for Frank’s return. Oh ! what anguish 
she suffered. Faint and sorrowful, she scarcely 
dared touch food, for fear of it containing some 
poisonous drug. At last in despair, Minnie roused 
herself, and again endeavored to escape from the 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


265 


house. She found the doors barred and the in- 
mates on the watch. 

" Oh ! Let me out ! Let me out ! ” pleaded 
Minnie, the tears in her eyes. " Oh ! do not keep 
me in this vile place ! ” 

But Minnie was rudely pushed back into her 
room, and told to keep quiet or it would be the 
worse for her. Minnie threw herself on the bed 
and sobbed aloud. 

At length she went to the window, thinking she 
might see some one and call for help. A little 
child stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the 
house. With a swift hope in her heart, she 
opened the window and beckoned to the child. 

" Oh, little girl ! have you a mother? ” she cried, 
in a hushed tone, her heart in a flutter. 

The little child nodded' wonderingly. 

" Then, for the love of heaven, fly home 1 Tell 
your mother I am a prisoner in this house Oh ! 
beg her to come and help me out ! ” 

The child hastened home. Told her mother 
that Minnie was held against her will. The 
mother came to the house, and even the neighbors 
became aroused. 

"You have a girl imprisoned here,” said the 
mother to Madame Chastini. "Let her go, or I 
shall appeal to the authorities.” 

Madame Chastini bowed and simpered. 


266 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


" Oh, no ! ” she said. " There is no girl impris- 
oned in this house.” 

"Yes, there is,” returned the woman. "Let 
her go at once, or you will see trouble.” 

After this threat, Madame Chastini dared not 
hold Minnie against her will. And with apologies 
and smiles, let her again go out into the wide, cold 
world. 

Minnie Marston was once more free. But 
whither should she turn her steps ? 

Alas ! She was alone in the desert of a great 
city ! 

What should she do? Where was Frank? 
Was she really married? These thoughts surged 
wildly upon her troubled mind. 

" Oh ! ” she said to herself, " if I could only 
find the minister that married me ! If I could 
only learn whether it was a marriage or a cruel 
mockery ! ” 

And with tear-blinded eyes and sorrowful heart, 
Minnie stumbled along the streets in despair as to 
which way to turn. Suddenly a thought came to 
her. 

" I remember, now,” she said, pressing her cold 
hand to her forehead, — "I remember the minister 
that Frank took me to lived near a church. Oh ! 
if I could only find the place ! ” 

Minnie, weak and weary, searched street after 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


267 


street, looking tit the houses and on the doors, 
hoping to recall the house she had been taken to 
on her wedding eve. 

Coming to a church, she gazed at it long and 
wonderingly. 

"Can this be near where I was married?” she 
said to herself. 

And Minnie looked around, and tried to recall 
\ some appearance of the locality that was familiar 
to her. But in vain. All was wholly new and 
strange to her troubled senses. 

She looked on the doors of the houses to see if 
a minister lived near the church. 

Meeting a clergyman going into his house, 
Minnie asked, in a tremulous voice, fr Oh, sir ! 
did you marry me ? ” 

But alas ! he had never seen her before, and 
could give her no hope. 

On, on she faltered along the sidewalks, striv- 
ing to keep down the fast-rising tears that flowed 
to her eyes. " Oh ! mother ! father ! ” she cried 
in agony ; " will you ever forgive me ! Ever take 
me to your hearts again ! ” 

Soon she came to a church on the corner of two 
streets. Minnie stopped and tried to think if she 
had ever before seen it. A boy was playing on 
the sidewalk. 

"Little boy,” said Minnie, "can you tell me 
whose church is this ? ” 


268 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


The boy gazed solemnly into Minnie’s sad face] 
as he gave the minister’s name. 

Minnie thanked him, and looked along the street 
to find the house where the clergyman lived, j 
Soon she came to it. But alas! poor Minnie’s 
courage deserted her, and she dared not ring the 
bell. The house, the place, all looked strange to 
her ; and she thought to herself, " Oh ! it cannot 
be here Frank took me ! ” 

And discouraged and down-hearted, she gave] 
way to her grief and despair in a flood of tears. 

Suddenly she thought of Madame Chastini’s 
remark that perhaps Frank " was the son of rich j 
old Gildersleeve up on the hill” Minnie’s heart 
fluttered wildly, and a new hope dawned upon 
her mind. 

"What hill did Madame Chastini mean?” she 
kept asking herself as she threaded the busy 
streets. "Up on the hill! Up on the hill!”] 
These words rung continually in her ears, and yet 
she could find no solution to the problem. 

"Look out dar, young Missy,” said a voice in 
her ear, while a hand forcibly laid on her shoulder 
dreAV her back just in time to escape being trodden 
down by the horses of an omnibus. 

Minnie had reached the corner of Summer and 
Washington Streets. The traffic of the day was I 
at its height. At this corner, horse-cars, coaches, 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


269 


teams, and humanity ever seem to be mixed up in 
an inextricable, interminable mass. Two police- 
men find their hands full in striving to undo this 
Gordian knot, and piloting timid ladies safely 
across the Rubicon. In her abstraction, Minnie 
had become involved in the stranding: throng-. 
The policemen were busy, and did not notice her 
as, in trying to evade the prancing horses of a 
fashionable coupe , she darted directly in the way 
of an on-coming omnibus. Another moment and 
our heroine would have been trampled beneath 
the horses’ feet. But help was at hand. Our col- 
ored friend Sambo, crossing the street in the nick 
of time, saw the young girl’s danger. 

" Guess yer ’s not much ’quainted in dis yer 
city, Missy,” Sambo said, after having seen 
Minnie safely to the opposite sidewalk. ff De 
noise an’ confusion kinder ’wilders yer, I spec.” 

In truth, the girl looked very pale and fright- 
ened, as well she might. 

" I have indeed been in Boston but a short time, 
sir,” she answered, with a hesitating manner, 
almost unconsciously walking along beside Sambo, 
as he took his way up Winter Street. 

Sambo looked into the sweet young face, and 
saw by its expression that there was some question 
she would fain ask. 

" Kin I be of any sarvice ter ye, Missy?” he 


270 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


asked. "Ef so, don’t ye go fur to hesitate ter 
say so. I ’se ready ter do anythin’ posserble fur 
de sake ob yer sweet, innercent face. I ’clar ter 
gracious, yer puts me so much in mind ob my oP 
massa’s darter way down Souf — she hed jes’ seeh 
a prett} r , saint-like look in her blue eyes dat you 
hab, Missy, in yourn — dat it would be jes’ a 
pleasure fur me ter help yer in yer distress ; fur 
I can’t help a-seein’ dat you is in distress. So 
yer jes’ tell ol’ Sambo widout any fear what ’s on 
yer min’, honey.” 

" You are very, very kind, sir,” said Minnie, in 
a tone low and broken by emotion, the tears 
welling to her eyes at this unexpected sympathy. 
"'Perhaps you may help me. Can — can you tell 
me where — where — the Hill is ? ” 

"De Hill, Missy?” repeated Sambo, rubbing 
his finger meditatively on his woolly pate, and 
looking a little bewildered at the question. 
"Why, I don’t tink I knows ’zactly what yer mean. 
Yer see, Missy, dar ’s so many hills round yere — ” 

"I know the question must appear ridiculous,” 
said Minnie, " and that is why I hesitated to ask. 
I am anxious to find a family who reside on 'the 
Hill.’ My hopes, my happiness, perhaps my life 
itself may depend on it ; but not till now did I 
realize how difficult, how all but hopeless my 
search must be in such a large city as this.” 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


271 


There was a pathetic cadence to her voice that 
touched Sambo’s benevolent heart to its depths. 

" Cheer up, Missy,” he said, tenderly. 

They had reached the Common by this time, 
and the good-hearted colored man, noticing how 
weak and fatigued she was, induced Minnie to sit 
down on a bench, while he remained standing 
before her in an attitude of respectful attention. 

" Cheer up, Missy,” he continued. " Don’t ye go 
fur ter be cast down. Let me tink a minute. 
Dere ’s so many hills, as I was a-sayin’, about Bos- 
ton. Dere ’s Copp’s Hill down ter Norf End, den 
dere ’s Fort Hill, and here right afore us yer see 
Beacon Hill. Dis, yer see, is whar de airy- 
stockysy libs.” 

"The aristocracy,” repeated Minnie to herself. 
" Perhaps this is the hill that Madame Chastini 
meant. Oh, sir,” she cried, eagerly, " something 
assures me that Beacon Hill is the place where I 
must commence my search.” 

"Ef dat is so,” said Sambo, with heightened 
interest, " den I ’se jes’ de man dat kin help yer, 
honey. I knows mos’ eberybody up dar. Yer 
jes’ tell me de name ob de fam’bly, and ef dey 
libs on Beacon Hill I kin jes’ tell yer all about 
’em.” 

But Minnie at this intelligence assumed a sud- 
den reserve. Some feeling prompted her not to 
divulge too much to this stranger. 


272 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


"You live, then, hi this neighborhood?” she 
asked. 

" Yis, honey ; right up dar on de hill. Do yer 
see de chimbleys ob dat ar house — right dar froo 
de trees, tudder side ob de dome ob de State 
House ? ” 

Minnie followed the direction of his extended 
finger, and nodded an assent. 

"Wal, dar’s whar oF Sambo libs. Dat’s de 
Gildersleebe’s family mansion. A mighty fine 
house it ar’, too, Missy. Ben in de fam’bly dis 
hunded year,” added Sambo, with the pride of an 
old and attached servant. 

" What — what was the name you mentioned ? ” 
said Minnie, tremblingly, but suppressing the 
emotion which she felt at the negro’s words. 

" Gildersleebe. Dat’s de name ob my missus. 
Poor ol’ Massa Gildersleebe, he ’s dead and crone ! 
He war a mighty good massa to oF Sambo, dough 
he wa’ n't jes’ ’zactly a saint, Missy. De good 
Lor’ hab mercy on him ! But yer don’t seem 
bery well, honey,” Sambo added in alarm, 
noticing now the sudden flush on the young girl’s 
cheeks, and the feverish brilliancy which had come 
into her eyes. 

" Oh, I feel better, much better than I did. 
Now that I have rested I will not trouble you any 
more, sir. For your kindness to a poor and 
stricken girl I shall ever, ever be grateful ! ” 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


273 


Her voice weakened with the closing words, 
and taking Sambo’s hard, horny hand in her soft 
and delicate one, she pressed it gratefully, and 
before the surprised negro could utter another 
word, she abruptly left him. 

" Clare ter gracious, dere ’s somefin’ de matter 
wid dat poor chile,” said Sambo to himself, watch- 
ing her for a moment until she was lost to sight. 
" Ha ! She neber tole me de name ob de people 
she war sarchin’ fur, arter all. Dat’s cur’ous, 
mighty cur’ous.” And shaking his head and mut- 
tering thoughtfully to himself, Sambo went on 
his way. 

Meantime Minnie Marston sped aimlessly along 
the shady paths. Unconsciously she approached 
the place where on that Sunday evening months 
ago she had first met Frank Gildersleeve. Once 
more she seated herself. Suddenly she recognized 
the surroundings, and a swift tide of both happy 
and bitter recollections surged upon her mind. 

" Oh ! If I had never seen him,” she murmured. 
But other thoughts soon prevailed. The courage 
which had sustained her hitherto, suddenly failed 
her when Sambo mentioned the Gildersleeves. 
At the moment, she shrank from pursuing her 
purpose. Her natural delicacy and timidity en- 
hanced her dread of the ordeal through which she 
would be compelled to pass. 

18 


274 


MINNIE DESERTED. 


How could she meet Frank? How meet his 
mother? No doubt a cold, haughty, fashionable 
woman. How could she — the poor, unsophisti- 
cated country girl — demand of this proud society 
woman recognition, redress, and protection ? These 
were her first reflections ; but when she thought 
of her husband’s baseness, of her own destitute 
situation, and the extreme and peculiar necessity 
which urged her for her own self-protection to 
falter not, all her courage came back. She rose 
hastily from the bench. 

" Yes, I will confront these people in their very 
parlors, ay, if they were crowded with fashion- 
able guests. Why should I fear? I am an honest, 
upright woman. In God’s sight I have sinned 
not, unless it were in my weak and almost idola- 
trous worship of one whom I now know to be the 
basest and wickedest of mankind. Oh ! How he 
did plead for my forgiveness when he found I 
would not tamely submit to my wrongs ! How 
fervently he vowed that he would marry me, 
cherish me with all the fondness of a husband’s 
devoted love ! I forgave him, — and this is how 
he has kept his word ! It would be weak, foolish, 
criminal to let him longer enjoy his fancied secu- 
rity ! No ! I will not do it ! You shall acknowl- 
edge me as your wife, Frank Gildersleeve, to 
your family and to the world ! ” 


A STARTLING REVELATION. 


275 


How little did she know her strength of pur- 
pose ! How soon was she to learn the lesson of 
the world, that even the course of justice must 
bide its time ! 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. — MOTHER AND 
SON. 

On entering the Gildersleeve mansion Sarnho 
was met in the hall by Mrs. Gildersleeve’s maid. 

" Missus is all of a fret because you’ve been 
gone so long, Sambo,” she said. " You ’d better 
hurry up. Perhaps she won’t give you a piece 
of her mind, nor nuthin’.” 

And with a toss of her head and a knowing 
smile, the pert maid went to her mistress’ boudoir 
announcing Sambo’s return. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve was not in a particularly 
amiable mood. Several things that day had gone 
wrong with her. The strange change in Ger- 
trude’s manner secretly worried and perplexed 
her. Frank’s conduct added its stin^. His 
recent dissipations had become noised abroad, 
despite every precaution that had been taken to 
conceal them. Only the previous night, while she 
was entertaining several guests at supper, the 
young man had staggered into the room in a state 
bordering on beastly intoxication. This was the 


MOTHER AND SON. 


277 


crowning cup in the mother’s vexations. Pecca- 
dilloes she could have overlooked. According to 
her creed a young man of Frank’s standing in 
society might be guilty of many a trifling lapse in 
morals, and no harm done. A woman of the 
world, she had been taught to pass over in silence 
much in the conduct of men that would meet the 
stern moralist’s bitterest denunciation. But to 
see her own son besotted; and, worse than all, 
that he should make an exhibition of himself 
before her guests, was touching her strongest 
prejudice, — her family pride. 

" This condition of things has reached its limits,” 
she said to herself. " To see my son a drunkard 
is more than I can bear. I have been too lenient. 
Henceforth, I shall resort to harsher measures. I 

I will have an immediate understanding with Frank. 
He shall live like a rational being, if he remains 
an inmate of my house. Otherwise, I will have 
him placed under restraint. Yes, it is clearly my 
, duty as a mother, responsible for her son’s welfare, 
to put a check to his wasteful and sottish career.” 

Ah, proud, worldly woman ! Why had you not 
thought of this before? Why not have checked 
the ruin ere it was too late ? 

It was at this moment that her maid entered, 
followed by Sambo. The latter had been sent to 
the family lawyer to request him to call on Mrs. 


278 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 

Gildersleeve, with reference to some matters con- 
nected with her late husband’s still unsettled 
estate. 

" You have been gone a long time,” she said, as 
Sambo entered. Mrs. Gildersleeve was too well 
bred ever to raise her voice even when angry ; but 
she had a way of rendering her words mercilessly 
cold and severe, which, aided by the flashing 
glance of an eye, left her inferiors uncomfortable 
for hours afterwards. 

"Beg pardon, missus,” said Sambo, nowise 
daunted by the usual signs of his mistress’s dis- 
pleasure. "Marsa Vellum war away when I got 
ter de offis, so I waited an’ waited till he kim 
back. He say he be happy to wait on yer dis 
ebening.” 

"Very well; you can go. Victorine,” Mrs. 
Gildersleeve added, turning to the maid, "there’s 
a ring at the door. Let me know who it is. 
And, Victorine, tell the footman that I am at 
home to nobody, — positively nobody, this after- 
noon.” 

In a moment the girl returned. 

"Please, ma’am, it ’s a young woman.” 

"A young woman!” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, 
with a stare of haughty surprise. "Recollect 
yourself, Victorine. A young lady you mean.” 

" Bcggin’ your parding, missus, it ’s a young 
woman” 


MOTHER AND SON. 


279 


" A young woman, and at the front door ! ” 

" Yes ’m. James told her to go round to the 
-servants’ entrance if she wanted anything.” 

" And very properly, too,” replied the lady. 

" But please, ma’am, she begged very earnestly 
to see Mrs. Gildersleeve.” 

"To see me!” repeated Mrs. Gildersleeve, 
elevating her eyebrows as if incredulous at such 
an unheard-of piece of audacity. 

" Yes ’m.” 

" And what reason did she give for making 
; such a request ? ” 

"Please, ma’am, she said as how she had some- 
thin’ very particular to say to you.” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve reflected an instant. 

" Probably she has come on some charitable 
mission. Tell the young woman, Yictorine, that 
lit will really be impossible for me to attend to 
her to-day. My charity days, you may remind 
Per, are Tuesdays, and in the morning.” 

The maid again went out, but almost imme- 
diately returned. 

"Please, ma’am,” said Yictorine, tossing her 
head, "the young woman persists in seeing -you. 
She says she don’t come for charity, and what she 
wants to see you for is of the utmost importance 
to yourself.” 

" Yery well, Yictorine,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, 


280 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEYE. 

with a sigh of resignation, and rising from the 
luxurious fauteuil in which she had been negli- 
gently seated during i his time, "I will see this^ 
very troublesome person. You may show her 
into the reception-room. On second thoughts, I 
think you had better show her into the dining- 
room. ’’ 

On entering the apartment, Mrs. Gildersleeve 
stood for a moment apparently struck by the 
beauty and grace of her visitor, for that visitor 
was none other than Minnie Marston. 

Thus these two women, each of whom was to 
exercise such a powerful influence on the future 
life of the other, met for the first time. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve was an observant woman. 
She saw at once that the young girl before her, 
though simply attired, belonged in no sense to 
what she called the canaille. 

" You wish to see me, young woman, I am 
told,” she said in her stately manner, without 
seating herself, and thereby compelling Minnie to 
remain standing. 

The young girl was deeply impressed by Mrs. 
Gildersleeve’s appearance. It was her first meet- 
ing with this type of woman. She had read in 
novels of ladies who, by virtue of their wealth and 
social position, arrogated to themselves the airs, 
graces, and homage of a queen ; but she had no 


MOTHER AND SON. 


281 


idea that such personages actually existed, espe- 
i daily in democratic America. Yet as her eyes 
fell on the imposing figure of Mrs. Gildersleeve, 
j on her gleaming silks and costly laces ; as she 
noticed the queenly grace and dignity of her car- 
I riage, and saw the clear-cut features, with the air of 
I classic repose which dwelt upon them, she felt a 
momentary awe and confusion that made it im- 
possible for her to answer at once. 

Mrs Gildersleeve, noticing her embarrassment, 
( perhaps insensibly propitiated by it, and touched 
j beside by some spark of womanly feeling, 

I motioned for Minnie to be seated. She then 
| said, — 

" Do not hesitate to tell me what has occasioned 
this visit. I believe you are a stranger to me. I 
do not recollect ever having seen you before.” 

"No, madam,” replied Minnie, timidly, "I am, 
I think, an utter stranger to you.” 

Her soft, sweet voice, and the modest, downcast 
eyes, impressed the haughty woman still more 
favorably. Her manner softened. 

"Well, my child,” — how Minnie’s heart flut- 
tered at this endearing term ! — " take time to 
collect yourself. I am completely at your ser- 
vice. My servant informed me that your com- 
munication was of personal importance to myself.” 
. " I may not have used the phrase advisedly, 


282 


MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 


madam,” replied Minnie, gradually recovering her 
ease. " It will be for you to judge.” 

"You do not come to solicit charity, I was 
told?” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, encouragingly. 

"No, madam. I came for — for justice.” 

The girl’s manner changed. She was now on 
firm ground. The memory of her wrongs steeled 
her heart. 

At the word " justice ” Mrs. Gildersleeve 
straightened up haughtily in her chair. She had 
not the remotest idea of what this girl had come 
to say to her ; but instinctively her combativeness 
was aroused. 

" Justice ? ” she repeated. 

"Yes, madam, justice! ” 

" Ah ! Perhaps you are one of my tenants. 
Your parents have been unable to pay their rent, 
and my agent undoubtedly has been somewhat 
exacting? Is such the case? ” 

" Alas, no ! madam. I come to you with the 
hope of enlisting your sympathies as a wife and 
mother in the cause of a poor, misguided, but 
loving girl.” 

"You mean that you have been unfortunate?” 

"Yes, madam; very, very unfortunate. If to 
be the victim of a wicked, cruel plot — if to be 
deceived by a specious scoundrel — if to find his 
promises but empty words — his oaths, shameless 


MOTHER AND SON. 


283 


perjuries — if that is to be unfortunate, then I am 
so indeed ! ” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve, at these pathetic words, 
uttered with all the eloquent feeling of a heart 
moved to its utmost depths, became again the 
hard, worldly-minded woman. 

" I may commiserate your lot,” she said, frigidly, 
" but it is impossible for me to be of any assist- 
ance to you. There are homes and houses of 
refuge provided for abandoned women who desire 
to reform ; and to which I am happy in being a 
constant contributor. To one of these institutions 
I would recommend you to apply.” 

Minnie heard the heartless and insulting words 
like one in a dream. Gradually their sense and 
meaning stole upon her mind. A chill like that 
of death ran through her veins, and then indigna- 
tion sent the hot blood leaping to neck, cheek, 
and brow. 

Impetuously, she sprang to her feet. 

" How dare you draw such an inference as 
that, madam ! ” she cried. ” What ! I, daughter 
of a minister of God, the vile thing you intimate ! 
The very thought is degradation — the words an 
insult ! Madam, in the name of everything pure 
and sacred to a woman’s, a wife’s, a mother’s 
nature, take back those wicked words ! ” 

"This — this is very strange conduct ! ” gasped 


281 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve, pale and angry. " Do yon 
know, young woman, whom you are addressing 
in this insolent manner ? And in my own house ! 
I will tolerate your presence no longer. My ser- 
vants shall show you to the door." 

I And the haughty woman, for once moved by 
natural feeling beyond her usual powers of self- 
control, rose to leave the room. 

" Stay, madam ! ” said Minnie, arresting her. 
" Perhaps when you learn the wrongs that stung 
me to that which you term insolence, you will 
find some excuse for my impetuosity. You have 
a son — ” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve turned quick as lightning. 
In those four words the significance of Minnie’s 
presence in her house was made clear. 

" Do you know my son? ” she asked slowly. 

"Alas! yes, madam.” 

" And you dare, brazen creature that you are, to 
come to me — h is mother — with the tale of my 
son’s profligacy and your own shame ! ” 

" Again you mistake me, madam,” said Minnie, 
with a great effort choking down her rising indig- 
nation at this second undeserved reproach. " Do 
you see aught in my face that marks me as the 
abandoned wretch you name? Are these poor 
garments that my humble means alone can afford, 
the raiment in which a libertine decks out the 


MOTHER AND SON. 


285 


partner of his guilt? Do you behold upon me the 
glittering gems and gewgaws that illicit love 
exacts as its tribute? Madam, I am not your 
son’s mistress ; I am his — ” 

"Hold!” exclaimed Mrs. Gildersleeve. She 
had listened up to this point, still, breathless 
almost as a marble statue. She knew instinctively 
to what climax the young girl’s words were tend- 
ing. " Say not another word now. Wait.” 

She went to the dining-table, and touched a 
bell. Sambo appeared at the door in answer to 
the summons. His eyes opened to their widest 
extent as he beheld the young girl whom he had 
befriended ; but he was too discreet to make any 
remark. 

" Tell Mr. Frank that I wish to see him in this 
room. And be sure and say nothing further.” 

Sambo bowed and retired. 

Not a word passed between the two women in 
the interval. At length footsteps were heard 
aproaching. The next instant Frank Gildersleeve 
entered. His mother stood between him and 
Minnie. He therefore did not at first perceive 
the latter ; but he saw by his mother’s look that 
something unusual had occurred, and his heart 
sank within him. Suddenly Mrs. Gildersleeve 
moved aside. 

" Frank ! ” 


286 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 

" Minnie ! ” 

The exclamations Were simultaneous. 

" So you do know this girl, Frank Gilders leeve ?” 
demanded his mother. 

"I — I have seen her, mother.” 

" Enough ! ” Then turning to Minnie she con- 
tinned : " You claim to bear some honorable rela- 
tion to my son ? ” 

"I do,” was the low, tremulous reply. 

" Please state the nature of that relation.” 

There was an instant’s silence. No sound but 
the ticking of the Ormolu clock on the mantel, 
the faint rustling of the drapery curtains gently 
swaying in the summer wind, or the beating of 
their own hearts. 

It was an instant of terrible, agonized suspense 
to at least two of the occupants of that room. 
Then came the words, low, distinct, emphatic, — 

" I am his wife .” 

The haughty woman of the world fixed her eyes 
with an intense, a burning gaze upon the speaker. 

What thoughts, — what uneasy, bitter thoughts 
were passing in her mind could not be read in her 
impassive countenance. Minnie, pale and fair as 
a lily* her fragile and delicate figure drawn up to 
its full height, her soft, gazelle-like eyes meeting 
unflinchingly the haughty gaze that was bent upon 
them ; while Frank Gildersleeve stood with eyes 


MO 1 II Eli AND SON. 


287 


downcast, his limbs trembling, his fingers ner- 
vously interlocked, the very picture of confused 
and confounded guilt. 

Such was the tableau which continued undis- 
turbed several minutes after Minnie had uttered 
these startling words. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve’s lips moved once or twice, 
as if she essayed to speak, but no sound followed 
the motion. Her hand stole up to her forehead, 
and swept the white brow as though some crush- 
ing weight rested there, which she vainly sought 
to brush away. At length she seemed by an 
effort to regain her customary self-poise, and to 
herself she murmured, — 

" I do not, will not believe it. This girl is an 
artful, designing creature, and her claim a 
trumped-up one to extort money ! ” 

But though she said this to herself, it was im- 
possible for her to look into the frank and fearless 
countenance of the young girl, into those pure 
and limpid hazel eyes, without seeing that truth, 
purity, virtue, those jewels of a woman’s soul, 
beamed in every look, were written in every line 
and lineament in nature’s plainest handwriting. 
She gave no sign of the impression thus produced , 
however, but turned to her son, and then made a 
step toward him. 

" Frank Gildersleeve,” she said, her tones un- 


288 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 

faltering, and clear and sharp as the ring of 
crystal, — "Frank Gildersleeve, you hear what 
this girl avers. Is it true, or is it a lie? Are you 
her husband, or are you a scoundrel, a villain, a 
profligate, as w r ell as a gambler and a drunkard?” 

Frank trembled like an aspen at these severe 
and ringing tones. His lips worked convulsively. 
Great drops of perspiration beaded his brow. 
The terrible effects of his dissipated habits were 
never so palpably visible as now. Minnie was 
no stranger to his faults. She had in the last few 
months frequently seen him under the influence 
of liquor. She had plead with him and prayed 
for him time out of mind, — but in vain. Still, 
with all his faults, or rather despite them, she 
loved him ; and even now, knowing how cruelly 
he had intended to desert her, — notwithstanding 
her good name depended on the word of this weak 
and vacillating man, that the cause of light, jus- 
tice, and her woman’s honor hung trembling in 
the balance, — she felt a great pity and tenderness 
for him steal upon her soul. Her eyes grew 
humid ; she moved a step or two toward Mrs. 
Gildersleeve, and with clasped and outstretched 
hands, she said, — 

"Oh! madam, be merciful to your son. Do 
not brand him, here in the presence of one who 
loves him but too well — ” 


MOTHER AND SON. 


289 


But the cold, proud woman — outwardly cold, 
though her bosom was a seething caldron of con- 
flicting emotions, though her heart was torn with 
bitterest anguish — raised her hand command- 
ingiy. 

” Be silent, girl. I am speaking to my son ! 
Answer me, Frank Gildersleeve, — have you dared 
marry this woman ? ” 

His mother’s eye was upon him. He would 
have given worlds if he had possessed the moral 
courage to stand forth and take Minnie in his 
arms, and boldly proclaim her to be his wife, and 
tell her that he would protect her against every 
| ill of life. 

How fittingly, he thought, as he looked at her, 
would she adorn any station, even the most 
exalted ! How naturally would that perfect form 
take on and set off the elegant appointments of a 
modish costume ; how appropriately would dia- 
monds become that shapely hand with its taper 
fingers, or the small delicate ears, and gleaming, 
milk-white neck ! How his heart now yearned 
for her ! How proud, thus arrayed, would he 
have been to introduce her to all upper tendom , and 
be able to say, " See ! Does she not outshine 
you all ? Is she not a true patrician by right of 
nature, if not by right of birth? ” 

But in the presence of his mother, under the 


290 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 

quelling eye of that worldly woman, who had 
domineered over him from his cradle with a 
tyranny that warped his very nature and repressed 
and chilled all the warm and generous impulses 
of his soul, he dared not acknowledge the truth. 
And so, like a craven, nerving himself to the 
meanest and most despicable action of his whole 
shameless life, he said, hoarsely and under his 
breath, — 

" This girl is an impostor. Marry her ! Is it 
likely, mother, that a Gildersleeve would stoop to 
such an alliance ? ” 

This avowal struck terror to Minnie’s soul. 
She uttered a low cry, and caught hold of the 
back of a chair to save herself from falling. 

"You have not answered my question,” said 
Mrs. Gildersleeve. "I want a direct, straight- 
forward reply . ” 

" Frank ! Frank ! ” cried Minnie. " In God’s 
holy name, think of what you do ! Oh ! You will 
not surely deny — ” 

" Hush, girl ! ” interposed the imperious voice 
of Mrs. Gildersleeve. " Now, answer me, Frank 
Gildersleeve. Did you or did you not marry this 
girl?” 

"I — did — not ! ” 

A sigh of relief from the mother, but from 
Minnie’s lips came an indignant cry. All the 


MOTHER AND SON. 


291 


spirit of the girl was roused. She strode directly 
to Frank Gildersleeve, and looking him in the 
eye, exclaimed, — 

" Liar, perjurer, scoundrel ! Dare you stand 
here in the presence of your mother, in the pres- 
ence of the woman whom you swore to love and 
honor as your wife, — in the presence of Almighty 
God, who heard that vow and recorded it, as He 
now hears and records your black, shameless, and 
cruel falsehood, — dare you thus stand here I say, 
and brave Heaven’s judgment? Oh, Frank! 
Frank ! I have loved you with the purest and 
tenderest love ! I have prayed for you when 
even the mother who bore you would have cursed 
you and cast you out from her heart and home, if 
she knew but a tithe . of the deep dishonor and 
monstrous villany of which you have been guilty ! 
il have found excuses for you, when you have sub- 
jected me to the cruellest pain and anguish, — when 
you have wrung my heart until it seemed as if it 
must break or that I must go mad ! — at all and 
every stab which your conduct has given me, I 
have never ceased for one moment to love you. 
Your first crime against me I forgave. You 
kept me for months in cruellest torture ere you 
would fulfil your promise and marry me. All 
that I forgave. But now, now that you foully 
I seek to disown that marriage, now that you 


292 MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 

throw upon me the imputation of being a wanton 
and an outcast, and leave not only on my name j 
but on that of your unborn child a stigma too 
foul for my lips to utter, — you shall learn that 
even a woman’s devotion has its limits. To-day 
you deny me justice ; to-morrow, Frank Gilder- 
sleeve, I will seek it with the strong hand of the 
law ! ” 

"This is all very good acting, mother,” the 
young man said, with a mighty effort struggling 
for composure. "This girl evidently has mistaken 
her vocation. Her art would command a high 
premium on the stage. Here, pray tell her, it is jj 
entirely thrown away.” 

This speech was not without effect on Mrs. 
Gildersleeve. It almost confirmed her doubts, 
and inclined her strongly to believe that, however 
her son might have misused this girl, he had at 
least never married her. To her, actuated as she 
was by motives difficult now to explain, this was 
unspeakable relief. A cunning thought suggested 
itself to her. 

"You talk of the law, wretched girl!” she- 
said. "We shall never drive you to that ex- 
tremity. You come here demanding justice. 
You shall have all the justice which you can show 
you are entitled to. People in our position of 
life are subject to much imposition. To protect! 


MOTHER AND SON. 


293 


ourselves we are compelled to accept no tale of 
distress without the accompanying proofs Now, 
heed well what I have to propose. You claim 
that my son married you. Well, prove it.” 

' She paused . Minnie looked at her in bewilder- 
ment. Her heart quaked with a new and unfore- 
seen terror. 

"You do not speak. There were witnesses to 
your marriage, if married you were.” 

"Indeed — indeed there were, two witnesses,” 
cried Minnie, with a gleam of hope. 

"Very well. Bring them here to me. Let 
them confront my son.” 

" Alas ! Alas ! Madam ! ” sobbed the stricken 
girl, "I never saw them before or since. I do not 
-even know their names ! ” 

"That is unfortunate, but still not bevond 
remedy. You know the clergyman’s name who 
performed the ceremony ? ” 

"My God! You will drive me distracted!” 
cried Minnie. "I never heard his name spoken. 
I do not know him.” 

There was a cruel gleam in Mrs. Gildersleeve’s 
eye. 

"Well, even that does not make your case 
utterly hopeless. There is one last resort, — one 
final article of proof. Produce that, and enable 
me to prove its validity, and my son shall ac- 
knowledge you as his wife.” 


294 


MINNIE AND MRS. GILDERSLEEVE. 


"Oh! speak! speak! madam! On my knees! 
I implore you to name this last, this precious 
hope ! ” 

" I refer to your marriage certificate. No one 
can be legally married without that. What ! 
You don’t mean to tell me that you have no certifi- 
cate ! ” 

The blow fell upon the pool* girl with crushing j 
force. She could not speak. Her heart seemed 
breaking. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve’s manner changed. Her \ 
brow darkened. She struck the bell. A footman - 
appeared. 

"James, show this creature to the door, and 
never at your peril permit her again to come into ! 
this house ! ” 

And poor Minnie, without strength to utter 
a word in protest, without spirit left to say 
another word in appeal, tottering, heart-broken, 
utterly crushed, was led to the door, and thrust 
rudely out upon the street. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


ROSE DELANEY IN THE TOILS. — PREPARATION FOR 
A JOURNEY. 

One day Father Titus, on leaving the Gilder- 
sleeve mansion, where he had been holding con- 
versation with Gertrude, took his way across the 
Common. He was in a meditative mood, but his 
reflections were suddenly disturbed by a well- 
known voice behind him. 

" A penny for your thoughts, Father Titus ! ” 

It was Rose Delaney. 

" Why, Rose, what are you doing down here 
so far away from home? ” asked the priest. 

"I have been shopping, and I was just going 
home when I saw you walking along, Father, as if 
your thoughts were a long way off.” 

" I was thinking of you, Rose, and I was also 
thinking: of a dear friend of mine whom I have 
] e ft 5 — a convert, like yourself, to our holy faith.” 

" Who is it, Father? Any one I know? ” 

"Her name is Gertrude Gildersleeve. She is 
the most devout convert I ever saw. I expect 
eventually she will enter holy orders.” 


29(3 


ROSE DELANEY IN THE TOILS. 


" Does she belong in Boston ? ” 

"Oh, yes, she resides with her parents on Bea- 
con Ilill, in the winter. I first met her at the 
Notre Dame Academy, of which, as yon know, 
Rose, I am the Spiritual Director. Her family 
don’t know that she is so thoroughly wrapped up 
in religion, but she is only one of a great many 
others who have secretly espoused the church. 
Don’t you wish you had entered a holy life, 
Rose?” 

"No, indeed, I do not,” said Rose, tossing her 
head. " I almost lead a holy life as it is. There 
is John in the church all the time. Then do I not 
see you, Father, almost every day. To say noth- 
ing of going to the church and its surroundings so 
frequently to see my husband.” 

" That ’s a fact, Rose. I think you are about as 
good as a great many I know who are in holy 
orders. By the by, Rose, I wish you would 
come in to see me this afternoon. I have some- 
thing to tell you.” 

That afternoon Rose was in Father Titus’s room 
at the appointed time. She was greeted with the 
usual freedom of the priest, and after partaking 
of a glass of wine, seated herself and said, — 

"Father, I bought several little things for my- 
self this morning, and here is a little present 1 
bought for you,” producing a small gold tooth- 


PREPARATION FOR A JOURNEY. 


297 


"Rose, you are too thoughtful. I can never 
forget you. How I wish that you could remain 
with me all the time.” 

At this point Father Titus moved his chair close 
beside Rose and put his arm about her neck. 

"Why, Father Titus, ain’t you afraid somebody 
will come in?” 

"No, my dear,” replied the priest, kissing her 
fondly. " They would not dare to enter my room 
without knocking.” 

" Oh ! dear, if my husband were to find this out 
he would kill me ! ” gasped Rose, in a tremor. 

"Never fear, Rose. Your husband will never 
know it, and besides what he does not know will 
never do him any harm. And you know John 
has been reared a good Catholic, and he would 
never dream of a priest doing a wrong. So we 
are free from all suspicion on the part of your 
husband.” 

"But, Father Titus, the servants in the house 
know that I come to your room every day. They 
might suspect something wrong.” 

"You are too sensitive on that point, Rose. 
Don’t you know that your good actions in attend- 
ing church, going to confession and communion 
regularly, place you above suspicion? The ser- 
vants or any one else w T ould not dare to breathe a 
word of scandal against you.” 


298 


ROSE DELANEY IN THE TOILS. 


Rose prepared to leave. 

"You are not going so soon, Rose?” 

" Oh yes ; it is getting late and I want to see 
John before I go home.” 

"Well, come here and kiss me, and here is a 
little present for yourself.” 

After complying with his wishes, Rose re- 
ceived from Father Titus a roll of bills, and bid- 
ding him good by, quitted the room. 

After leaving Father Titus’s house she proceeded 
to find her husband, to tell him of her good fortune 
and to give him the money she had just received. 
For Rose loved her husband fondly, and was only 
too glad to meet him with good news. 

" Well, Rosie, been taking a walk?” asked John 
as Rose met him at his work. 

"Yes, John, and just see the handsome present 
I received from Father Titus. I did n’t want to 
take it, but he insisted. He is so good, John, I 
hope you will do everything in your power to 
please him.” 

" Well, you can just rest your mind easy on 
that, for I do a great deal more now than I need 
do, but he is so kind to you, I feel it almost a duty 
I owe to him to do all that mortal man can. And 
I know that he appreciates it, too.” 

"Yes, John, he speaks about you every time I 
see him and says he likes you ever so much.” 


PREPARATION FOR A JOURNEY. 


299 


" I don’t know how I can ever repay him for 
his kindness to us. But you had better go home 
now, Rosie, and get tea ready, and I will be home 
early and we will go to the theatre to-night.” 

And Rose and John Delaney separated. Rose 
to go home to her little family with her shame 
burning in her breast. Many a time the thought 
would arise within her that she was doing wrong 
and that she ought to tell her husband, but then 
she thought that an exposure at that time would 
isacrifice her husband’s situation. She would con- 
sole herself with the assurance that Father Titus 
gave her, that " what your husband does not know 
will never do him any harm,” and withheld from 
him the secret of her shame. 

There was no happier man that night, on his 
return from his daily labors, than John Delaney, 
living in ignorance of his wife’s shame. His home 
to him was a kingdom and he the king. 

" Come, Rosie, let ’s have tea as soon as possi- 
ble and we will go the theatre. You know I 
promised you this afternoon.” 

, "I know, John, but I don’t care about going. 
I would rather stay at home with you and the 
children.” 

"Nonsense ! Come, there is no time to waste.” 

And after tea was over, John and Rose went 
together to the theatre. 

O 


300 


ROSE DELANEY IN THE TOILS. 


The next day Rose paid her usual visit to! 
Father Titus. 

"Rose, I have been thinking about you ever 
since you were here yesterday. I am thinking 
about sroinof to New York next week, and if John, 
would allow you I would like to have you go with 
me.” 

"I don’t know, Father Titus, that he would j 
object ; but I could not get ready to go next week, 
as I have nothing to wear.” 

" Nonsense. You get his permission, and every- 
thing else will be attended to. Besides it will do, 
you a world of good, to have a change of air and 
to be free from your family duties for a little! 
while.” 

"Well, I will ask John. I know he won’t 
refuse, and I would like to go very much indeed, i 
When do you propose to start ? ” 

" A week from to-morrow. You ask John, 
and then come and see me to-morrow morning, 
and I will let you have some money.” 

And after a hasty good by, as Father Titus 
had company, Rose departed with a fluttering ; 
heart to get her husband’s permission to accom- 
pany Father Titus to New York. She was not 
long in finding her husband, to whom she related 
her interview with Father Titus. John Delaney 
at first refused her request. 


PREPARATION FOR A JOURNEY. 


301 


"I don’t see why you should object, John. I 
think it very kind and thoughtful of Father Titus 
to ask me to go with him. Besides, John, you 
know I can call and see my sister and cousins in 
New York.” 

"I know all that, Rosie, but who is going to 
take care of me and the little ones while you are 
gone ? ” 

" Oh, I guess you can take care of yourselves 
for three days. I am only to be gone that length 
of time.” 

"Well. All right. You can go. I suppose 
I can stay at your mother’s while you are gone ? ” 

"That ’s a capital idea, John. And now I will 
run in and tell Father Titus. He will be pleased, 
I know.” 

And Rose Delaney left her husband and sought 
Father Titus, who was more than pleased when he 
heard the news. Rubbing his hands together and 
laughing, he said, "So John said that you might 
go with me ? ” 

"Yes. And was very glad to think that I had 
an opportunity of going to New York. I have n’t 
been there since I was a child.” 

"Well. Here is some money. I want you to 
buy the nicest dress you can buy in Boston, and 
whatever else you want.” 

"Oh ! thank you, Father Titus !” 


302 


ROSE DELANEY IN THE TOILS. 


And Father Titus embraced and kissed her, 
when she departed and again sought her husband, 
to whom she handed the money and wished him 
to go with her to make her purchases, which lie 
did. 




CHAPTER XXV. 


SPIRITUAL UNCLE AND NIECE. — A VISIT TO NEW 
YORK. 

The week of preparation previous to the trip to 
New York passed away very quickly to John 
Delaney. For John loved his wife, and he did not 
like to have her away from him. He looked 
sadly forward to the day now rapidly approaching 
that would separate them, even though it was only 
for three days. Rose had never been away from 
home before, and it seemed to him as if he was 
about to bid her a long farewell; that she was 
going away for a year or more, instead of a few 
days only. 

While the time was flying so swiftly with J ohn 
Delaney, it was just the reverse with Father Titus 
and Rose. Every hour seemed a day to them. 
During the week Rose was busy with dressmakers, 
milliners, and shopkeepers every day, buying 
dresses, gloves, kid boots, and other articles to 
complete a lady’s outfit. 

The morning of departure at length arrived, and 
many were the farewells that Rose received from 


304 


SPIRITUAL UNCLE AND NIECE* 


her family. John, with tears in his eyes, accom- 
panied his wife to the depot. On arriving they 
met Father Titus. 

"Ah! Good morning, Rose. You are on 
hand, I see, bright and early. And I declare I 
! never saw you look handsomer in my life* John, 
you should feel proud of Rose.” 

" I do, Father Titus ; and I feel sad to think 
that she is going away at all. I believe if I had 
not promised her, I should have retracted before 
now.” 

" Never fear, John. I will take good care of her 
and bring her safely back to you. I will write to 
you to-morrow and tell you all about our trip, and 
how Rose is conducting herself.” 

"Oh! John knows that I will conduct myself 
properly, and that I am in good hands,” said Rose, 
with a smile. 

"When will you return, Father Titus?” asked 
John. 

" Friday night. You can have a carriage at the 
depot to meet us. We shall arrive about six 
o’clock,” said Father Titus. 

And after John Delaney had seen Father Titus 
and his wife comfortably seated in a parlor car, 
he waited until the bell rang for the train to start, 
and after once more bidding his wife and Father 
Titus good by, and again cautioning the reverend 
I 


A VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


305 


father to take good care of Rose, he watched the 
train move slowly out of the depot, taking from 
him the person he loved dearer than the whole 
world. 

With a sigh he turned away and started to see 
his mother-in-law, who was an old English lady of 
the finest type, who had been a magnificent- 
looking woman in her young days. A woman 
who could never believe a wrong in any person, 
and who had a pleasant word for everybody. 
Such a mother-in-law had John Delaney. 

"Good morning, John. I suppose you have 
been to the depot to see Rose off?” said Mrs. Ball 
as John entered the door. "Now I want you to- 
sit right down and have some breakfast; you 
certainly must be hungry by this time.” 

"Oh no, thank you, Mrs. Ball. I am not hun- 
gry. I will be in to dine with you this noon, how- 
ever. How are the babies ? do they annoy you ? ” 

"Not at all. I think they would rather stay 
with me now, than with their own mother, 
wouldn’t you, my little fellow?” 

And Mrs. Ball tossed little Freddie, John’s 
oldest baby, up and down playfully. The little 
fellow looked at his grandmother and laughed as 
though he knew wdiat she said. 

"When do you expect Rose home, John?” 
asked his mother-in-law. 

20 


306 


SPIRITUAL UNCLE AND NIECE. 


"She will be here Friday night. I hope she 
will enjoy herself. She said she should call on 
her cousins while in New York.” 

" Oh yes, she told me so yesterday, John.” 

"Well, I think I will now go to work and will 
be here to dinner.” 

And after bidding her " good morning,” John 
Delaney Avent to his labors of the day. 

The train that bore Father Titus and Rose 
Delaney to their destination, after a long and 
weary journey, finally reached New York. A 
carriage was engaged and they were driven to the 
hotel, where they were shown their rooms, which 
had been previously engaged, — one apartment 
leading from another. Tea was served in their 
room and wine ordered. 

" My dear Rose, you must he fatigued after our 
long ride to-day, and a glass of wine is so re- 
freshing, it will do you no harm, take my word 
for it,” said Father Titus, persuasively. 

"But, Father, I don't care for it-; I would 
sooner have a cup of tea,” replied Rose. 

"Very well,” said the priest. "By the by, 
Rose, I want to caution you about one thing. 
While we are here all of our meals will be sent to 
this room, and in presence of the waiters and 
servants you must call me ' Uncle , 1 as we are regis- 
tered on the book in that way.” 


A VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


307 


After tea was over, Father Titus put oil his 
spectacles and read the evening paper which he 
had sent for, and after telling Rose that the inner 
room was hers, and that she could retire when 
she liked, he took out his breviary and began 
perusing it. Rose retired to her room, but she 
could not sleep. Thoughts of home and her little 
children came crowding fast upon her mind. She 
knew that she was doing wrong in thus coming 
with Father Titus, and in allowing him to repre- 
sent her as his niece. 

Morning came, and after breakfast a carriage 
was at the door for Mrs. Delaney to go shopping. 
She drove to Stewart’s on Broadway and selected 
two silk dresses, after which she called on her 
cousins. After a long drive she arrived home in 
time for dinner, when again the wine bottle was 
the first thing that was offered her. This time 
she did not refuse, but yielded to Father Titus’s 
urging. And during her stay in that hotel there 
was a continual drinking of champagne and other 
wine during and between meals. 

" I think I will write a letter to John this after- 
noon,” said Father Titus after dinner. 

" Oh yes ! ” cried Rose, pleased at the idea. 
"Tell him how lonesome I am away from him, 
and how I long to see him. And tell him to be 
sure and meet us at the depot.” 


308 


SPIRITUAL UNCLE AND NIECE. 


" John is a good fellow,” said Father Titus. 
" He believes everything you say to him. I don’t 
wonder at it, however, for you have such an ear- 
nest way about you. Oh, Rose! If John were 
not in the way, I believe I would sacrifice my 
calling and go with you to some other part of the 
world.” 

"Father Titus, you must not talk in this way. 
You frighten me,” exclaimed Rose. 

Friday morning, the day of their return, at 
length came and everything was in readiness to 
depart for home. 

John Delaney was at work in his house, having 
it cleaned up and everything put in order so that 
Mrs. Delaney would be pleased on her arrival. 
He went to see his mother-in-law early that 
morning to tell her how pleased he was that the 
long-looked-for day of Rose’s return had arrived. 

He found Mrs. Ball sitting in the rocking-chair 
playing with little Freddie ; but when John en- 
tered she put Freddie down. 

" Everything seems pleasant this morning, John. 
You, and the babies, even the beautiful sun seems 
to rejoice in the return of Rose. It seems as 
though she had been gone a month,” said the 
mother-in-law. 

"From her letter I should judge that she would 
rather be home, even though she is having such a 
good time,” returned John. 


A VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


309 


"Well, you know she is young, John, and I 
hope you will always give her as good a time as 
you can, for she is a good wife and has always 
been a dutiful daughter.” 

"Yes, I know that, Mrs. Ball. It has always 
been my delight to afford Bose all the pleasures 
in life I could, and I hope I will always do so. I 
am going to meet her at the depot, and when she 
arrives I will bring her in to see you immediately.” 

And so saying, John Delaney took his depart- 
ure, little knowing as he did so that he had spoken 
to Mrs. Ball for the last time. Fifteen minutes 
later his wife’s mother was dead. John was sent 
for immediately, and all his joy was now turned 
to sorrow. Upon arriving at the house, John 
found Mrs. Ball just where he had left her a few 
minutes before, sitting upright in the rocking- 
chair cold in death. 

The sorrow of John Delaney knew no bounds ; 
for he loved that noble woman as if she had been 
his own mother. 

But how to break the sad tidings to his wife he 
knew not. He well knew the love she bore for 
her mother. He feared the sudden news of her 
death would unnerve Bose and affect her health 
disastrously. 

It was with a heavy heart that he went to the 
depot in a carriage and awaited the arrival of the 


310 


SPIRITUAL UNCLE AND NIECE. 


train from New York. Every minute seemed to 
him an hour. When the train at last arrived, his 
heart was wellnigh bursting with grief at the 
thought of imparting to Rose the dreadful intelli- 
gence of her mother’s death. 

"How do you do, John?” said Father Titus as 
he stepped from the train. And before John had 
time to answer, Rose was beside him and asking 
after the children, and a number of other ques- 
tions, none of which John heard, as he was think- 
ing about the best way to break the sad news. 

Father Titus’s guilty conscience took the alarm. 
John’s anxious look frightened him. What if the 
deceived husband had learned the truth? He 
became frightened. 

Acting on this suspicion, he placed his hand 
quickly over John Delaney’s mouth, and pushed 
and urged him toward the carriage. 

"Hush, John ! Not a word now. Get into the 
hack,” cried Father Titus excitedly. 

" I did not want to mar the joyousness of this 
occasion,” said John sorrowfully ; " but something 
has happened that will turn it into gloom and 
sadness.” 

" Oh, John ! What do you mean ! ” exclaimed 
Rose, now beginning to realize that her husband 
had something terrible to communicate. 

"If you will promise me to keep calm, I will 
explain, Rose,” said John. 


A VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


311 


” I promise you, John. For mercy’s sake! 
what is it?” 

" Well, then, to be brief about it, if you must 
know, Eosie, your mother is dead ! ” 

"Dead? oh, John!” cried poor Eose, bursting 
into tears. 

John tried to soothe Eose. He helped her into 
the carriage, and soon they reached Father Titus’s 
house. The priest bid John and Eose "good 
b} r ,” and hoped that he would call after sup- 
per. The carriage then sped on to Mrs. Ball’s 
house, which being reached the grief of Eose 
Delaney gave itself vent in the most violent man- 
ner. She upbraided herself for having left home 
at all. If ever there was a conscience-stricken 
woman for her misdeeds, Eose Delaney was the 
one that night. 

The preparations for the funeral of Mrs. Ball 
were carried out in a manner that would havo 
become a more wealthy person. Lavish was the 
display, and the money expended was nearly all 
of it furnished by Father Titus. 

The good old lady was buried, and shortly after 
forgotten by her own children, but not by John 
Delaney. He had a monument erected to her 
memory, and in Mt. Auburn Cemetery she now 
sleeps the sleep that knows no waking ! 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


MINNIE’S WANDERINGS. — AEONE IN A GREAT CITY. 

Madame Chastini’s establishment was in a 
state of confusion and dismay. An hour after 
Minnie’s departure from the house, Dr. Forceps 
made his appearance, flurried and angry. 

" How in the name of common caution did you 
let the girl go ? ” he exclaimed, after the madame 
had related the facts. "You Ve spoiled the best 
job we Ve had for years, Jane Ripley ! ” 

"How was I to help it?” whined the other. " I 
did n‘t dare defy the woman that came for her.” 

The dentist saw the force of this excuse, and 
made no answer. 

"Perhaps we can get hold of her again,” he said 
at last. " If we do , you must put her where she 
can’t again communicate with anybody.” 

" I ’ll answer for that ! ” said the woman, vin- 
dictively. "But where can she go to? You told 
me she had n’t a friend or relation in the city, 
except young Gildersleeve. Good gracious ! Sup- 
pose she has got an inkling of who this Frank 
Gildersleeve is, and has gone to his house ? ” 


ALONE IN A GREAT CITY. 


313 


" Thunderation ! ” exclaimed Forceps, springing 
to his feet as if stunned at the thought. " That 
would play the very deuce all round ! Hang it ! 
What if she was playing ’possum the other day 
when we thought her asleep ! We let the cat out 
of the bag pretty effectually. Could she have 
overheard what we were saying ? ” 

" What you were saying, Dick Forceps, please 
remember. I did n’t have no cat to let out of the 
bag.” 

"Yes, confound you, but it was your blasted 
curiosity that led me to speak of it. But a truce 
to recrimination ; it ’s no use to cry for spilt milk. 
We must to work. The girl must be found and 
brought back, or you and I, Mother Ripley, will 
have to leave Boston in double-quick time.” 

While this conversation was taking place, Min- 
nie Marston was groping her way blindly across 
the Common. How she ever reached that spot, 
she could not have told. Like one in a dream, 
she had left the Gildersleeve mansion. The 
crushing nature of the blow she had received 
dazed and bewildered her senses. The faculty of 
continuous thought was no longer hers. 

She tottered along, unconscious of her surrgund- 
ings, seeing no one, yet moving on as if obeying 
some impelling instinct that still survived the 
general prostration of her intellect. Various were 


314 


Minnie’s wanderings. 


the comments of the passers-by on beholding the 
pretty face and youthful figure of the young girl, 
reeling and swaying like one intoxicated. 

" What a shame ! ” said an elegantly dressed 
lady to another, pausing to look after Minnie. 
"Poor girl ! What could have driven her to such 
a state ? ” 

" Drunk as a fiddler ! ” said a rakish-looking 
young man to his companion. " Say, sis,” he 
whispered, as Minnie passed by, and was about to 
add some ribald jest, when his better-hearted 
companion drew him away. 

But Minnie was deaf to all these remarks, as 
she was unconscious of the attention her strange 
conduct attracted. 

" Not his wife ! Not his wife ! ” 

The words seemed to float in her brain. They 
rang again and again in her ears. Her eyes 
beheld nothing but that terrible scene just passed, 
— the proud, hard mother; the false and abject 
wretch whose lying words — Ah ! She could not 
follow out the thought ! Ever and forever those 
words came back to her, — 

" Not his wife ! Not his wife ! ” 

" What ails you, my poor child ?” said a benevo- 
lent-looking old gentleman, trying to detain her, 
as she was about issuing through the Bo}dston 
Street gate of the Common. "You are suffering, 
my dear. Pray let me assist you.” 


ALONE IN A GREAT CITY. 


315 


She stared at him with dazed eyes, shook her 
head slowly, understanding nothing of what he 
said or meant, and passed on. 

” Not his wife ! Not his wife ! ” 

On, still on ; whither she knew not and cared 
not ; but growing weaker and weaker now with 
every step. The dusk had by this time fallen. 
[Lights flashed from the windows. 

At last her fictitious strength entirely deserted 
her. She clutched at the iron railing before a 
house. For a moment, it seemed as if she were 
about sinking into utter insensibility. But some- 
thing rallied her failing faculties. As her eyes 
fell on the house before her, they encountered a 
broad expanse of window, ablaze with many- 
colored lights. 

Through the glass was visible a long array of 
bottles, tier rising on tier, an apothecary’s shop. 
Her eyes wandered from one object to another ; 
now at the rich decorations, the black-walnut and 
gilded fittings, the marble counters piled with 
elegant trifles, the glistening scales, the flashing 
lights and brilliant rainbow hues ; at the customers 
coming and going ; the urbane clerks behind the 
counters, as they deftly put up little parcels and 
packages, — watching all with the idle and won- 
dering curiosity of a child. Gradually, it seemed 
I as if some chain of association was being cstab- 


316 


Minnie’s wanderings. 


lished between all these things and some great 
want or desire dimly shadowed forth in her 
mind. 

What was it? She struggled desperately to 
think, — to solve the reason of this mysterious ; 
feeling, this strange fascination which held her 
spellbound as it were to the spot. 

" Not his wife! Oh, my God ! He said I was j 
not his wife ! ” 

Suddenly she gave a startled cry. The weight 
that had lain like an incubus on her brain seemed 
all at once to be dispersed. The complete, the 
unspeakable misery of her situation burst upon 
her. 

" Not his wife ! ” 

Ah ! What then ? What then ? 

Alas ! for the poor wretch assailed in his weak- 
est moment by a terrible temptation ! Alas ! for 
him, if he be so sunk in despair that the teachings ; 
of morality, the higher consolations and warnings i 
of religion — all that he has loved, cherished, 
venerated — all the lessons of a pure and virtuous 
life, are as nothing in the presence of a great 
affliction. 

Minnie felt all the agony and utter hopelessness 
of her fate. Alone in the great city, not a friend 
to whom she could confide her wrongs, not a soul 
whom she could trust, acquainted with no one to 


ALONE IN A GREAT CITY. 


317 


whom she would dare confide her sad story in the 
hope of touching a sympathizing heart, — what 
wonder if her first instinct in that moment of 
overwhelming trouble, was to seek the last, 
the only resource that seemed to offer her any 
escape ? 

The memory of a favorite book of her father’s 
— "The Vicar of Wakefield” — which he had 
placed in her hands, and wdiich she had read and 
re-read with never-ending delight, flashed upon 
her mind. That book had been her father’s part- 
ing gift, his warning to her delicately conveyed. 
She knew that its wise lessons — drawn from 
the Book of hooks, that never- failing source 
of all goodness and all wisdom — had imparted 
strength to her character, and fortified her to re- 
sist the most ardent persuasions of the man she 
loved. 

But at this terrible crisis of her fate came the 
thought that the warning had all been in vain. 
That notwithstanding her own blamelessness, to 
the world she was no less an outcast than if she 
had viciously courted and wantonly embraced a 
deadly sin. That the finger of scorn would be 
pointed at her, and that as Mrs. Gildersleeve had 
intimated, a house of refuge or a reformatory in- 
stitution was the only asylum, save a house of 
shame, that was properly open to her. 


318 


Minnie’s wanderings. 


Could she ever look her father and her mother 
in the face again? Would she have courage to tell 
them her story? Would they believe, in their sim- 
ple faith, that such wrongs as hers were possible 
in a civilized, law-abiding community? 

And if they could be brought to believe it, how 
about her friends and neighbors in that distant 
New Hampshire village? Could she endure the 
covert sneer, the sly innuendo, the averted look, 
with which friend and neighbor would greet her? 
Oh, no ! no ! A thousand times, no ! Better, far 
better death ! And through her mind at the 
moment floated the plaintive lines of Olivia’s 
song, — 

“ When lovely woman stoops to folly, 

And learns too late that men betray, 

What art can soothe her melancholy, 

What charm can wash her guilt away? 

“ The only charm her guilt to cover; 

To hide her shame from every eye; 

To bring repentance to her lover, 

To wring his bosom is — to die!” 

The next moment she was standing, pale, trem- 
bling, but determined, before the counter of the 
drug store. She laid a piece of money on the 
marble. 

" A quarter’s worth of laudanum,” she said to 
the clerk. 


ALONE IN A GREAT CITY. 319 

In vain she tried to steady her voice, and speak 
in commonplace, or at least unfaltering, accents. 
The clerk detected her agitation, saw the strange 
glitter of her eye, and the drawn and haggard 
look on her lovely countenance. 

Slowly he shook his head. 

"I am sorry, miss,” he said, "but I cannot sell 
laudanum, or any other deadly drug, to you , 
without a physician’s prescription.” 

The meaning look, the significant emphasis, 
told the young girl that her desperate purpose 
was suspected. Without a word, she turned 
away. But she did not falter in that purpose. 
Failure in this one attempt did not imply failure 
in other efforts. She would try another place. 
She would repeat the words over and over again, 
until she could speak them without a tremor. 
Desperation even sharpened her wits and taught 
her the necessity of deceit. So that entering a 
small and untidy apothecary’s shop, she made 
known her 'wants in a manner which this time 
awakened neither suspicion nor scruples. 

Concealing her fatal purchase, Minnie hastened 
once more along the darkened streets ; hut now 
that she had gained the end for which she had 
roused her drooping energies, now that she felt, 
her fate rested in her own hands, her strength 
once more deserted her; her tottering limbs re- 


320 


Minnie’s wanderings. 


fused to support her. She felt a dull, throbbing 
pain in her head ; she threw out her arms, clutched 
at the empty air, and, with a low moaning cry, fell 
insensible upon the pavement ! 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


FIRST SUSPICIONS. — SHADOWS ON THE CURTAIN. 

"Rose, my dear,” said John Delaney to his 
wife, soon after her return from New York, 
"what ails you to-day ? Something troubles you, 

I fear.” 

"Oh no, John,” said Rose, hesitatingly. 

"You look so strange, my dear. You have 
something on your mind, I know. Come, tell me 
what it is ; that’s a dear.” 

And John fondly stroked Rose’s pretty head. 

But Rose still hesitated. 

"I — I don’t like to tell you, John.” 

John wtis getting interested by this time. 

"Do not act so, Rosie. Surely you do not 
fear to confide in your husband, — one who loves 
you so dearly as I do ? ” 

"Well, John, I — I went to confession to ^ 
Father Milton to-day.” 

"Well?” 

" I do not think I shall ever go to confession to 
him again.” 


322 


FIRST SUSPICIONS. 


"All? And why not? Father Milton is an 
excellent man.” 

" He may be ; — but — but he asked me such 
strange questions.” 

"Strange questions? Nothing, I hope, that a 
good and modest woman would object to hear, 
Rose?” 

"Yes, they were. Oh! John, if I had been a 
young unmarried girl, I should have been really 

frightened at what he said.” 

© 

John Delaney rose to his feet, a startled look 
coming into his face. 

"As it was,” continued Rose, with downcast 
eyes, " I was so ashamed that I was glad enough 
to get out of the confessional.” 

" Rose,” said John sternty, " I want you to tell 
me exactly what Father Milton said and did.” 

"Well, I will tell you, John. After the usual 
questions, he began to ask me about our domestic j 
affairs ; if we lived happily together ; if you were 
a kind and tender husband; if I had always been 
faithful to you, and if you were always faithful to 
me.” 

"Go on, Rose,” said John, as his wife paused.' 

" Then — then — ” 

But here Rose broke down completely. John 
resumed his seat, and putting his arm tenderly 
around her he sought to soothe and calm her by 
endearing words. 


SHADOWS ON THE CURTAIN. 


323 


" There, there, Rosie, my pet ! ” he said, " pray 
I be calm. I do not blame you, my dear, because 
I this priest shocked your modesty. It was not 
your fault. The holy fathers are sometimes rather 
plain spoken, to be sure. But they never mean 
any harm.” 

" I don’t know about that, John. A priest is a 
man after all. And when a man talks to a woman 
as Father Milton talked to me, and eyed me, and 
smiled at me, I begin to suspect him.” 

" But tell me what he said,” persisted John. 

Rose nestled up closer to her husband, and after 
much persuasion, whispered the desired communi- 
cation in his ear. As she concluded, John sprang 
up and began to pace the floor with agitated 
steps. 

"Did he dare touch you? Did he dare make 
you any improper proposals?” he cried. 

" No, John. But his eyes spoke a language that 
was plain enough.” 

"If anybody but you, Rose, had told me of 
this, I would not believe it. I have been brought 
up at the altar. Have been taught to believe that 
our priests are above the sinful feelings of common 
mortals. That they are pure as the saints. Oh ! 
I cannot believe Father Milton meant any harm. 
He cannot be such a wolf in sheep’s clothing! 
You must be mistaken in your surmises, Rosie.” 


324 


FIRST SUSPICIONS. 


"No, I am not,” said Rose. "I am sure that I 
am right. Besides, why did he ask such pointed 
questions about my relations with Father Titus? 
If he had not intended to debase my mind, he 
would never have suggested such things. You 
know he has more young girls at his confessional 
than any other priest. And I noticed as the 
prettiest girls came out, they seemed embarrassed 
and their faces were crimson.” 

John, much disturbed by his thoughts, was still 
walking up and down the room. He was the 
most unsuspicious of men. Kind and affectionate 
by disposition, and never imagining evil of any- 
body. And yet something in his wife’s words or 
manner awoke an uneasy feeling in his breast. 
He could not define it, however. He only knew 
that for the first time since their marriage, some 
dark and ominous shadow seemed to be threaten- 
ing his domestic peace and happiness. 

His face colored as he turned to Rose. It smote 
her with a sense of dread and comimr danger, it 
was so full of gloomy sternness. 

"Rose,” said he, "you make me suspicious of 
these priests. If one dares go to such extremes, 
others, too, will do so. Can it be that ministers' 
of our holy church will prostitute their high call- 
ing to such base, such villanous ends? Your 
words have aroused strange thoughts within me. 


SHADOWS ON THE CURTAIN. 325 

Even Father Titus — But no ! No ! He has ever 
been my true friend and yours. No ! I will not 
wrong that good priest ! Though all others prove 
false, I would take my oath that Father Titus is 
as pure as the angels. ” 

Rose trembled like an aspen at this. In vain 
she tried to control her agitation. John gave her 
a quick, startled look. 

Heaven help the unsuspecting man when once 
his suspicions are awakened ! There is no torture 
equal to that he suffers. " Trifles light as air” 
become "confirmations strong as proofs of Holy 
Writ.” So was it with John Delaney at this 
moment. Rose’s emotion struck a pang sharp as 
an adder’s tooth to his heart. 

"Oh!” he cried in his agony, "have I been 
deceived? Have I cherished a serpent in my 
bosom all these years ? Have I been the dupe of 
a designing priest ? ” 

He beat his clinched hand against his brow. 

The danger brought Rose Delaney to her senses. 
She must mask her feelings and calm John’s sus- 
picions or she would be lost, utterly ruined. 

" Oh ! John, my dear husband ! What are you 
talking about?” she exclaimed, rising and cling- 
ing to his arm, her eyes filling with tears ; for 
despite her artless, childish ways, Rose was a 
consummate actress. " You do not mean a word 


326 


FIRST SUSPICIONS. 


you say ! How can you talk so ? Am I not your 
dear little wife, who loves you better than any- 
thing else in this world?” 

She threw her arms around his neck, and 
looked so tearfully up into his face that, in spite 
of himself, J ohn was softened. 

Rose continued, — 

"How could you speak so of good Father Titus, 
John? Think how kind he has been to you and 
to me. Think of the privileges he gives you. 
Think of the presents he is continually giving me, 
all out of regard for you, John, dear.” 

"Ah!” said John, his suspicions again awak- 
ened as he suddenly recalled one or two things 
which had happened between the priest and Rose. 3 
"I saw Father Titus holding your hand, Rose, the 
other day in a very tender manner. I remember, 
now, how closely you sat together, too. His 
foot touched yours in a very loving way more 
than once. Those glances you exchanged I 
thought were merely the fond looks of a hither to 
a daughter ! Oh ! heavens and earth ! I shall 
go crazy with these thoughts !” 

" Oh ! John, how can you ! ” cried Rose, whim- 
pering. " I declare you ought to be ashamed of 
yourself to cast such aspersions on your little wife. ^ 
You know I have been always as true and faithful 
as woman could be. You don’t deserve to be 
loved as I have loved you ! ” 


SHADOWS ON THE CURTAIN. 


327 


And Rose fell to crying in downright earnest. 

Now, there was one thing which the good- 
hearted John Delaney could not stand. That was 
distress in man or woman. 

Harder still was it for him to see a woman in 
tears. Harder than all, when that woman was 
his pretty, childish, dearly beloved wife. 

Rose played her points well. 

She knew John’s weakness. 

She cried louder and louder. 

It seemed as if her heart was about to burst. 

John looked at her sheepishly. He wanted to 
hug her to his heart, to pour all his pent-up love 
into her ears. He wanted to tell her that he was 
a brute, an unfeeling monster; that he did not 
mean a word he had uttered. 

He longed to do this, but he felt too much 
ashamed of himself. 

" Boo — hoo ! ” sobbed Rose. " I nev — never 
th — thought yo — you would be so era — cruel, 
John Delaney ! There now ! Yo — you ought to 
be ashamed of your — yourself, so you had ! ” 

"Don’t, Rosie, dear ! ” said John, almost crying 
himself. "Don’t cry; please don’t. You make 
me feel bad.” 

"To g — go and suspect your — your true little 
wife, and dear good Father Titus, too! It’s 
shameful ! Oh ! dear ! I wish I was dead ! ” 


328 


FIRST SUSPICIONS. 


And the floodgates of Rose’s sorrowful heart 
were opened afresh. 

This was altogether too much for soft-hearted 
John. In a moment more he had rushed to Rose, 
caught her in his arms, and was frantically kissing 
away her swiftly flowing tears. 

These tears accomplished more than volumes of 
protestations could have done. They completely 
washed away every trace of J ohn Delaney’s sus- 
picions. 

"Come, Rose,” said John that evening, peace 
having been fully restored between them, "let 
us go over and see my father. He is very low 
to-night. The doctors say he may not live till 
morning.” 

In a few moments the pair were ready and 
sallied out to go to the house of John’s parents. 

Passing Father Titus’s parsonage, they saw the 
priest at the door, who pressed them to come in 
for a brief call. 

" Where are you going, my children ? ” said the 
priest. 

John told him. 

" Is your father then so very ill ? ” asked Father 
Titus. "I am sorry for you, John. But in that 
case I will not detain you from pursuing such a 
filial duty.” 


SHADOWS ON THE CURTAIN. 


329 


” We will call some other time,” said John. 

" Do so, please, and bring Eose with you, too. 
Why, you look tired and sick, my dear child,” 
said Father Titus paternally to Eose, giving her a 
significant glance which John did not see. 

” Yes, I do not feel well, Father,” said Eose, 
faintly. 

" Perhaps you had better let your wife rest here, 
John, until you return,” said Father Titus. 

" Certainly, if she feels too tired to go on,” 
returned John, looking at Eose’s pale face. 

So saying the husband took his departure. 
Once outside the door, he happened to glance up 
at the lighted windows of Father Titus’s study. 

There, sharply outlined upon the curtains, he 
saw a sight that struck him like a death-stroke. 
The silhouette of two figures, — their arms inter- 
twined, their heads pressed closely together, their 
lips meeting ! 

With a groan of mingled astonishment, anguish, 
and terror, John Delaney recognized in those 
shadows the figures of his wife and Father Titus ! 

Staggering like a drunken man at this crushing 
disclosure, to save himself from falling, the stricken 
husband clutched wildly at the iron railing before 
the house. 

How long he clung there he knew not. He was 
as one paralyzed; every hope, every feeling, 


3S0 


FIRST SUSPICIONS. 


every faculty crushed beneath this terrible, this 
overwhelming blow ! All thoughts of his dying 
father were banished from his mind. In that 
moment of supreme anguish his mind could hold 
but one terrible idea. 

" My wife ! my idolized Rose ! Oh ! she is 
false l she is false ! ” 


CHAPTER XXYIII. 


hose’s confession. — A husband’s terrible grief’ 

It was late into the night when John Delaney 
returned to his home, — a home, alas ! to him no 
longer ! 

Rose met him at the door. 

Her husband’s pale face, his bloodshot eyes, 
his stern, hopeless look awed and alarmed the 
faithless wife. 

Without a word he pushed rudely by her, 
entered the sitting-room, and dropped heavily into 
a chair. 

A groan of bitter agony burst from his lips. 

Rose had silently followed him. 

"What is it, dear John?” she said, as she crept 
close beside him. " Your father — ” 

" Is dead ! ” said John, solemnly. 

" Oh dear ! I am so sorry, John ! Oh ! why 
did n’t I go with you ! It is too bad ! But I felt 
so tired and sick.” 

"How long have you been home, Rose?” asked 
John. 


332 


rose’s confession. 


What a strange chill there was in his voice ! j 
Rose trembled, a vague feeling of fear creeping 
upon her. 

" Oh ! ever so long, dear John,” she replied, ; 
looking apprehensively at him. " Rut I could n’t 
go to bed until you came back.” 

"You need not have waited up for me” an- 
swered John, hoarsely, and in the same frigid 
tones. "Father Titus came home with you, I 
suppose ? ” 

" Yes.” 

John Delaney said no more for a moment. He 
leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands \ 
over his face. His form was convulsed with some 
strong emotion. No sound, however, issued from 
his lips. 

"Dear John,” said Rose, mistaking his agita- 
tion, "believe me, I deeply sympathize with you 
in your grief. Oh ! I know what it is to lose 
a loved parent. I can never forget my dear 
mother’s sudden death.” 

John suddenly dropped his hands from before 
his face and looked searchingly into her counte- 
nance. 

" Oh ! ” he murmured to himself, " so fair and 
yet so false ! ” 

"What is the matter with you, John?” said 
Rose, startled at his unnatural manner and harsh 
tone. 


a husband’s terrible grief ! 


333 


Instead of replying, John arose and approached 
her. 

" Come up stairs with me, Rose,” he said, going 
to the door. Wonderingly she obeyed, following 
him to the second story, and entering with him the 
room where the children slept. 

" Look at our children, Rose,” he said, pointing 
to the babes, a mournful cadence inexpressibly 
touching in the tones of his voice. " There they 
sleep the sweet sleep of peace and innocence. 
Rose ! Rose ! ” he cried, with a sudden burst of 
emotion, and wringing his hands wildly, "can 
you see these dear little babes, can you take 
them in your arms without reproach to your 
heart? Can you endure to hear them lisp the 
name 'mother’ and not wish the very earth to 
open and hide you?” 

" What do you mean, John ?” faltered the guilty 
wife and mother, pale with fright. 

"Mean ! I mean that you are a false, a vile, a 
perjured woman !” cried John, excitedly. 

"Oh, John! You are suspicious again. I 
thought after what occurred this morning, that you 
would never say such things to me again. You 
told me you would not.” 

"I was a fool. I believed your artful words, 
your cunning acting. Since then I have had a 
revelation.” 


334 


rose’s confession. 


She cringed away from him at these words as if 
he had struck her. 

"A revelation?” she gasped. 

"Yes, and a pretty. one to come to a husband! 
Nay ! do not try any of your blandishments upon 
me. It would be useless. My eyes are opened 
at last. Wretched woman, there is nothing left 
for you but to confess ! Ay ! down on your 
knees, here in the presence of these innocent chil- 
dren, of your wronged and outraged husband ! 
Confess, I say, how you have disgraced them , how 
you have deceived and deluded me! ” 

Without a word the guilty wife fell upon 
her knees at his feet. The vague presentiment 
she had felt was at length realized. She believed 
her husband did indeed know the full extent of 
her crime. For the first time the enormity of 
that crime was presented to her soul. She had 
dishonored her children ! Terrible thought ! The 
scales fall from her eyes. She. too had been 
deluded, deceived. 

Father Titus’s sophistry had blinded her. W ork- 
ing on a weak and frivolous nature, he had sapped 
the foundation of her virtue. Had taught and 
convinced her by insidious arts that there could 
be no sin committed with a priest of the holy' 
Church of Home. 

To cover his crime he had bound his victim by 


a husband’s terrible grief ! 


335 


the most fearful oaths never to confess her sin 
neither to her husband nor to any other confessor 
in the church. 

But now, removed from the magnetism of her 
paramour’s eye, from the infectious influence of 
! his gross nature and honeyed speech, away from 
the dread and terrors of his anathema, the miscra- 
! ble dupe opened her soul to her husband, reveal- 
ing all its burden of wrong and guilt and shame. 

" Ah ! ” said John Delaney, " now I see the 
reason of Father Titus’s kindness to me ! Fool 
! that I was, never to suspect ! Tell me how did 
this scoundrel make his first approaches?” 

"At the confessional,” was the trembling 
answer. "He asked me all sorts of questions 
similar to those I told you Father Milton did.” 

" How long has this been going on ? ” 

"For two years,” gasped Rose, sobbing aloud. 

John made a movement as if he would strike 
her, but restrained himself, murmuring, — 

"No! No! Let me not forget myself ! Iam 
to blame, also. I induced her to join the church ! 
Gave her no peace for a year. Instilled into her 
mind the specious dogmas of my religion. Led 
her like a poor, foolish fly into the spider’s web. 
Oh ! my God ! All this sin and misery I have 
brought upon myself! Not upon this poor dupe, 
but upon the arch villain who has wrecked my 
happiness shall my indignation fall ! ” 


336 


rose’s confession. 


Then to Rose he said, — 

" You have been in the habit of going to the 
priest’s house without my knowledge ? ” 

" Yes, John,” faltered Rose. " He — he warned 
me not to tell you that I called upon him so 
frequently.” 

"Ha! The deep-dyed scoundrel! Well, go 
on, tell me how he paved the way to your destruc- 
tion — and to his own also ! For as sure as there 
is a God of justice, this black-hearted crime shall 
be the utter and everlasting destruction of Father 
Titus ! ” 

"He was always inviting me to his house,” 
Rose replied through her sobs. "And during the 
early part of our acquaintance, he would occasion- 
ally use some little familiarities and drop words 
that would surprise me.” 

" What were those words ?” 

" Oh ! sometimes he would call me his little 
darling. Then he would say, ' Oh, Rosie ! if 
you only knew how much I love you ! 9 at the 
same time patting my cheek or toying with my 
hair.” 

"The villain!” 

" Then, as if recollecting himself, he would try 
and turn it off, call me his dear pupil or his pet 
child, and give me presents of money and jewelry. 
I — I always told you of those presents, John. 


a husband’s terrible grief ! 


337 


I never thought there was any harm in it all,” 
said Rose, simply. 

" I see ! He laid his cunning snares until the 
time was ripe for the poor fly to fall into the 

meshes.” 

" Oh ! I cannot bear to think of it ! ” continued 
the penitent woman. "It was almost insensibly 
that I at last yielded to his unholy wishes. I was 
not myself, John. He had induced me to take 
some wine with him. The fumes of the liquor 
excited me. No ! no ! John, I was not in my 
right senses ! I know I was not ! After that first 
step, the rest became easy. I demurred for a 
time ; but he made me believe that it was per- 
fectly right. Assured me that heaven had specially 
thus provided for its priests, because they were 
not permitted to marry. That I only obeyed a 
divine instinct, and that my submission would 
contribute to my happiness here and to my glory 
hereafter ! ” 

John Delaney could hardly contain himself as 
these specious and sacrilegious arguments of the 
priest were divulged. If Father Titus's evil genius 
had led him at that moment to John Delaney’s 
house, he would have rushed most surely upon his 
fate. 

" Tell me no more ! ” cried the infuriated hus- 
band. " Oh ! Father in Heaven ! Can it be pos- 
22 


338 


rose’s confession. 


sible that any of Thy consecrated servants are so 
black as this destroyer of my happiness and my 
home ? ” 

"Oh! say that you forgive me, John!” cried 
Rose, beseechingly. "I will never prove false to 
you again ! I will be all that a devoted wife can 
be! For our children’s sake, dear John, do not 
expose me ! Take me once more to your heart ! 
For oh! dear John, I swear that I have never 
ceased to love you ! ” 

" I will make no promises,” said John Delaney, 
sadly. " I pledge myself to nothing. But as for 
Father Titus — ” 

He did not finish the sentence, but turned hur- 
riedly toward the door. 

"Where are you going? Oh! John! what do 
you intend to do?” shrieked Rose, frightened at 
his stern set look. 

But without another word, John Delaney seized 
his hat and cane, and rushed out into the darkness 
of the night ! 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. — MINNIE’S COUNTRY 
HOME. 

The Connecticut River — the pride and glory of 
: New England — affords in its entire length one 
of the most charming and diversified panoramas 
of natural scenery in the world. 

Journeying from its mouth northward, the trav- 
eller passes through a succession of thriving towns 
and villages, highly cultivated farms, rich expanses 
of meadow, with now and then, on either side, a 
rounded hill or towering eminence clothed with 
verdure to the very summit top. Reaching the 
vicinity of its head- waters, the character of the 
| landscape changes, and a scene of almost Alpine 
grandeur and sublimity bursts upon the view. 

It is a region of mountains wild and rugged, 
of fearful precipices, beetling crags, overhanging 
rocks, dashing cascades and deeply wooded glens 
i and defiles, with here and there a verdant meadow 
or smiling plain set like a gem amid the surround- 
ing desolation. 

u 

Not far from Connecticut Lake — the source of 


340 


THE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. 


the noble river — and forming an outlying spur 
of the White Mountains is the celebrated Dixville 
Notch. 

The notch is a singularly wild mountain-pass, 
with precipitous sides and fantastic craggy pinna- 
cles, one of which, called Table Rock, rises a sheer 
height of eight hundred feet, and looks, in its lofty 
grandeur, like a sentinel of time, hoary and grim, 
keeping perpetual watch and ward over the sur- 
rounding country. 

It was in this far-away spot that Minnie Mars- 
ton was born. Her father’s house nestled in one 
of those little valleys we have mentioned, and 
almost under the shadow of Table Rock. 

Mr. Marston had been in his younger days a 
country preacher, but of late years ill-health and 
growing infirmities had compelled him to with- 
draw from the regular labors of a clergyman’s life, 
and he now gave most of his attention to cultivat- 
ing the few acres which he called his farm. 

Such as it was, the farm was his sole source of 
support ; and in a region so unfriendly to the 
processes of agriculture as that of Northern New 
Hampshire, it was no easy task for Minnie’s 
father to make both ends meet. He labored, too, 
under the added disadvantage of being lame, 
having injured a limb by a fall, and was compelled 
to employ hired help much of the time. 


Minnie’s country home. 


841 


John Marston was a man of sterling worth, and 
highly respected by his friends and neighbors. 
His wife was a worthy and cheerful helpmeet, 
accepting all the crosses of their lot with a meek 
and uncomplaining spirit, and ably seconded her 
husband in his duties and cares. 

It was a sad parting which the aged couple 
underwent when Minnie left them. The young 
girl was their only child and idolized accordingly. 
She was ambitious and energetic. The narrow 
life she was compelled to lead was too circum- 
scribed for her energies. She burned to enlarge 
the sphere of her usefulness ; to be doing some- 
thing for her parents ; to lend them substantial 
help in their daily struggle with poverty. 

Like many a country girl in similar circum- 
stances, Minnie turned a longing eye toward the 
city, vaguely imagining that in that region of cease- 
less bustle and tireless industry she could easily 
glide into some situation where a willing mind and 
active hands would meet with a stipend sufficient 
for her own Wants and enable her to contribute to 
the support of her parents. 

This idea long occupied her thoughts and formed 
the subject of her secret hopes. At last she pre- 
vailed upon her father and mother to permit her 
to answer an advertisement which she saw in a 
Boston newspaper, and when a favorable and 


342 


TIIE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. 


unexpected reply was returned to her application 
for the situation advertised, she wrung from them 
a reluctant consent to her accepting it. 

Every week brought a letter to the anxious 
father and mother from Minnie, and gradually 
they became in a measure reconciled to the idea 
of her absence. At length, however, the tone of 
her letters seemed to undergo a change. They 
no longer breathed the same happy and cheerful 
spirit of content. The anxious mother’s heart was 
the first to take the alarm. 

"Oh, John,” she said to her husband one day, 
" I fear our poor girl is working too hard, or that 
she has some source of care that she keeps from 
us. I am almost worried to death about her ! ” 

Her husband was astonished at this announce- 
ment. Minnie’s letters had conveyed no such 
sinister impression to him. But as each succeed- 
ing missive grew more and more despondent, at 
last John Marston fully shared his wife’s appre- 
hensions. 

But the letters from Minnie grew few and far 
between. The poor mother’s face became thinner 
and thinner every day. The old father’s step 
grew slower and heavier, and his head drooped, 
and a smile was rarely seen now upon his lips. 

The nearest post-office to the Marston farm was 
some twelve miles distant. Once a week it was 


Minnie’s country home. 


343 


Mr. Marston’s custom to drive over to the town 
to get his mail and do such trading as his limited 
means permitted. He returned one day from his 
weekly trip, and his looks at once betrayed that 
he had for the third time brought no letter from 
Minnie. 

" Oh ! John ! What does it mean?” cried Mrs. 

| Marston, bursting into tears. "Something has 
happened to Minnie ! Oh ! She is sick ; she 
must be sick, or she would not neglect to write ! 
Oh ! my child ! my child ! ” 

"Don’t take on like that, mother,” said her 
husband, soothingly, although he felt all her 
j apprehensions himself. " She has neglected to 
write for some just reason, rest assured. She will 
write soon. Perhaps there is a letter on the way 
now. I shall go to town asrain the first thins: in 

o O o 

i the morning.” 

But no letter awaited John Marston at the post- 
office the next day, nor the next. 

"Oh! What shall we do? What shall we 
do ? ” mourned the poor mother. " This suspense 
will kill me, John ! ” x 

"Now pray be calm, mother,” said her husband, 
himself nearly distracted with apprehensions. "I 
have thought of something that I should have 
done before. I will go to town once more to- 
morrow, and if this time there is still no letter, 


344 


THE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. 


I will telegraph to Boston and learn the cause of 
our girl’s strange silence.” 

" That never occurred to me,” said Mrs. Mars- 
ton. " Why did we not think of it at first? Oh ! 
It does n’t seem as if I could wait for so long a 
time ! But will you he likely to get an answer 
the same day, John ? ” 

"Undoubtedly. I shall wait for it until it does 
come, you may be sure.” 

" And who will you telegraph to, John ? ” 

"Why, to Minnie’s boarding-house, where we 
direct her letters, of course. Now cheer up, 
mother. It is like enough that our dear girl may 
be down with some trifling sickness, and hasn’t 
felt like 'writing ; or, if she has been unable to go 
to her 'work for a short time, of course she would 
be unable to send the money to you as usual, and 
so, for fear of disappointing you, chose to wait a 
few days.” 

" Oh f if I could only hope it was nothing 
worse ! ’ sighed the poor mother. 

The ensuing day Mr. Marston, for the fourth 
time that week, applied in vain for the expected 
letter at the post-office. The next step was to 
send his telegram to Minnie’s boarding-house mis- 
tress. He waited for hours before the answer 
came, and when he read it a groan burst from his 
tips. 


Minnie’s country home. 345 

The despatch was as follows : — 

To John Marston, Esq. 

Miss Marston left my house three days ago with a young 
| gentleman who has been waiting on her. Have heard 
i nothing from her since and don’t know the name of her 
I fellow. Perhaps she ’ll come back all right. Can tell you 
nothing further. 

Sophia Wilkins. 

" Perhaps she ’ll come bach all right ! ” 

J ohn Marston repeated those terrible words over 
I to himself again and again on the ride homeward. 
The very doubt expressed by them awoke a dread- 
ful and nameless fear in his breast. How could 
he communicate this terrible intelligence to his 
; wife ? How read this cruel message to that 
anxious mother? 

He was driving at the moment through the dark 
and narrow gorge of the Notch. Table Kock was 
before him, its tall, steep column looming far up 
into the sky, and seeming — as it ever seems — 
about to topple over into the contracted roadway, 
and heap with ruins all that lay beneath. 

A shudder ran through his blood as he gazed up 
and along the precipitous shaft, as if some awful 
and harrowing memory was evoked at its sight ; and 
then a sudden thought, like an inspiration, flashed 
upon his mind, and a calm and joyous smile, 
peaceful and happy as the smile on the face of a 


346 


THE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. 


child, usurped the look of pain and anguish which 
had furrowed his brow. 

It was with this look that he greeted, his wife as 
he entered their humble home. 

" Oh ! You have got news, John ! ” she cried, 
at the sight of his face. " Good news at last ! ” 

He checked her hopes as he shook his head. 

"No, wife, I have received only this telegram. 
Minnie is away on her vacation, but will probably 
return soon, and then write us as usual,” said 
John Marston, handing the despatch to his wife, 
and endeavoring to hide from her his forebodings. 

Mrs. Marston read the telegram. 

"Oh, John!” she cried, sorrowfully, "I fear 
all is not right with Minnie ! I am afraid — ” 

" Oh, wife ! ” said John, fervidly. "Let us hope 
and pray our dear Minnie is safe and in <rood 
hands ! ” 

" But why did you deceive me with that happy 
look, John?” said Mrs Marston. "I thought 
surely you had good news. How could you smile 
while our hearts are still so anxious for our dar- 
ling child ? ” she asked, reproachfully. 

For answer, John Marston placed his hand 
affectionately upon her arm and drew her toward 
the window. 

The sunset glow still lingered in the west, tip- 
ping the jagged and fantastic peaks into which 


Minnie’s country home. 


347 


the line of mountains was broken with oflitterin£ 

O tD 

gold. 

" See Table Rock, mother ! ” said Mr. Marston, 
in a low voice, pointing toward the giant pinnacle 
whose shadow was projected far out across the 
valley. " Do you remember when we went there 
to the picnic that was given for the benefit of the 
city strangers who were here two years ago?” 

" Certainly I do, John, and Minnie went also.” 

" Of course you recollect it, mother. As if 
either you or I could ever forget that day ! You 
know we lost sight of our darling, thinking she 
was with the rest of the Sunday-school children. 
Ah ! I can recall it all now as if it happened but 
yesterday ! Caleb Snow came up to me and says 
he, — 

"' John Marston, I would n’t let a child of mine 
take such a risk ! ’ ' What risk ? ’ I demanded. 

'Why, going up the Rock,’ he replied. 'Going 
up the Rock?’ I repeated in my bewilderment. 
'What Rock?’ 'Why, Table Rock, to be sure,’ 
he answered. ' And who is so insane as to attempt 
such a thing? ’ I asked. ' Why, I’ve been telling 
you this five minutes,’ said Caleb. 'Your daugh- 
ter Minnie ! See ! ’ he cried, pointing up the 
Rock, and at the same moment such a cheer went 
up from the people clustered in the road as I never 
heard before, — 'see! There she is, at the very 
top ! ’ 


348 


THE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. 


" I thought I should drop to the earth, mother. 
My heart ceased to beat ! Thank God ,you knew 
nothing about it till all was over ! I looked up 
to the top of the dizzy height. Yes, mother, 
there, a mere speck outlined against the sky, and 
waving her bright red scarf, stood our Minnie ! 
I shut my eyes in my terror, and when I opened 
them again she was gone. ' Great heavens ! ’ I 
cried, ' she has fallen ! ’ 

"But no, she had only commenced to descend. 
I ran to the foot of the rock, and knelt right 
down there and prayed as I never prayed before. 
I asked God in His mercy to protect my only child 
in that perilous descent, worse, more dangerous 
a hundred-fold even than the ascent. I pleaded 
and besought for my darling’s life. I promised, 
oh ! I know not what I did not promise in the wild 
agony of those few moments, if my little girl 
would only be spared to me. I saw her slowly 
descending, now in sight, now lost to view. I 
shut my eyes, for I dared not look. ' Ha ! she 
has slipped ! ’ I heard some one cry. ' Now she is 
on her feet again ! ’ came another voice. ' Bravo ! 
Bravo ! ’ shouted the city ladies and gentlemen, 
and clapped their hands to encourage her, as they 
told me afterward. Then there came one breath- 
less moment, and the child bounded as light and 
free as an antelope from the base of the rock to 


Minnie’s country home. 


349 


the solid ground. God had heard my prayer! 
He had saved our child ! 

” Ah ! I see her now as she looked at that 
moment, — with the flush of health and excite- 
ment on her cheeks, her eyes sparkling and 
gleaming, her head thrown hack, her bosom heav- 
ing ! I caught her to my breast, and made her 
promise then and there never again to repeat that 
terrible feat. Ah ! How they cheered her ! How 
those rich city people gathered round her, and 
petted her, and called her a heroine, and praised 
her matchless courage ! 

Not one among them all — man nor woman — 
dared do what our Minnie did ! And it was done 
so unconsciously, they all said ; not at all from a 
spirit of vanity or braggadocio. No, indeed. 
Her life had been spent among these rugged 
mountains. Every cliff and cranny was familiar 
to her feet. But until that moment, mother, 
neither you nor I knew that she had ever before 
climbed to the summit of Table Bock.” 

" And heaven be praised that we learned of it 
in time, John,” said Mrs. Marston. w We should 
have curbed Minnie’s venturesome spirit before. 
It was this same high courage and disregard of 
danger that impelled her to go to the city. She 
saw how hard was our daily struggle to get along, 
and like the noble, self-sacrificing girl that she is, 


350 


THE NEW HAMPSHIRE FARM. 


she determined to take a part of the burden on 
her young shoulders. But oh ! my darling ! my 
darling ! I fear I shall never see you again ! Oh ! 
John ! John ! Why did we ever part from our 
poor lamb ! Why did we ever let her go alone to 
that dreadful city ! ” 

And the stricken mother burst into a paroxysm 
of sobs and tears. 

" Hush, mother ! ” said the aged father, solemnly. 
"It is sinful to give way to such a tempest of 
grief. Listen to me. It was from no idle vanity 
that I have recalled that trying scene. The 
memory of God’s goodness to us at that time, 
came like a benediction to my soul to-day when I 
too was ready to give way to despondency. Let 
us trust in the Lord. We have long since confided 
our darling to His care. He who protected her in 
her hour of deadliest peril, He who answered 
my prayer, and brought our little girl safe and 
sound out of the very jaws of death, will shield 
her amidst all the perils and temptations which 
now encompass her. In Him let us trust : praise 
be to His holy name ! ” 

And then the old man knelt down and raised 
his voice in a fervent petition for his child. 

"And now, mother,” he said afterwards, "I 
cannot suffer any longer this suspense about 
Minnie. I am resolved to go in search of her.” 


Minnie’s country home. 


351 


" You, John ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Marston, in utter 
surprise. 

" Yes. It is true I am ignorant of the dark and 
crooked ways of the great city, hut my purpose 
will sustain me. I will see Abner Stowell and 
get him to see after the farm while I am away.” 

" But the expense, John?” said the wife. 

"I have thought of everything, mother. We 
must stop at no sacrifice now. Our child’s future 
welfare may depend upon my exertions. I will 
hesitate at no obstacle that would prevent what I 
think and believe is now my sacred duty ! I have 
already made arrangements to mortgage our little 
I property, and shall sell the cow. It will be hard 
to part with poor old Dolly, but we must crush 
all such feelings and think and feel only for our 
Minnie.” 

" And your lameness, my poor husband? ” 

"Not even that shall deter me. My child calls 
to me for help. I can limp many a mile without 
heeding fatigue if my steps only at last may lead 
to her. The Lord will raise me up friends, I 
have no fear. I have prayed for light and I 
believe it has been vouchsafed me. To-morrow I 
start on my search for our child !” 

" And I, John, shall go with you. I can never 
rest content here alone,” said the mother resolutely. 

And the morning light saw John Marston and 
his wife on their way to the Great City. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


DRIVEN TO DESPAIR. — MINNIE TAKES THE FATAL 
DRAUGHT. 

Jane Ripley, otherwise known as " Madame 
Chastini,” was sitting in her private sitting-room, 
alone with her own thoughts, and they were ap- 
parently not of a very agreeable nature. 

"I declare,” she was saying to herself, "the 
luck is runnin’ dead against me and no mistake. 
I’ve had no end of troubles this year. And here 
when I thought I’d fallen on to a good thing, — 
I mean this Marston gal, — she ups and slopes. 
And now I s’pose I’ll lose my pay for all the 
trouble she ’s caused me. Then there ’s that Sadie 
Burns. She’s goin’ to die on my hands, and 
there ’ll be all that expense for nuthin’ ! ” 

But the door- bell ringing at that moment cut 
short the woman’s cogitations. She sprang up 
with alacrity. 

"I do hope it’s Forceps. Perhaps he has been 
in luck and found the gal. I ’d give fifty dollars 
if it was so.” 

But Mother Ripley was mistaken. It was not 


MINNIE TAKES THE FATAL DRAUGHT. 353 

Forceps, but Dr. Ring, a physician regularly 
employed by her to look after the inmates of her 
establishment. 

"How is the patient, madame? ” he inquired on 
entering. 

" I dunno, doctor. But walk right up. You 
know her room. Excuse me from accompanying 
you, as I am expecting.Dr. Forceps every minute.” 

The medical man bowed and ascended the 
stairs, while Mother Ripley returned to her apart- 
ment, and once more fell into her previous train 
of reflection. It was not long after that she 
heard a carriage stop before the house and then 
came a furious ring at the door. 

She flew to open it, and encountered Dick 
Forceps. His face denoted tidings of some sort, 
whether good or bad she could not tell. His 
words soon reassured her. 

" I Ve got her ! ” he whispered. " But she ’s in a 
dead faint ! It ’s all right, however, I think. But 
come and lend a hand. We ’ll take her up to her 
old room. Send one of the girls over for Dr. Ring.” 

"He ’s up stairs, now,” said the woman. 

" That ’s lucky. But come along. We must 
get her in quietly before she comes to.” 

In a moment more the insensible form of Minnie 
Marston was lifted out of the carriage and con- 
veyed to the house. 

23 


DRIVEN TO DESPAIR. 


351 


" Where did } r ou find her, Dick ? ” asked 
Mother Ripley, after they had placed the young 
o*irl on the bed in the room she had before 

O 

occupied. 

"Not a half mile from here. I saw a woman 
fall, and rushed across the street to her. It was 
Minnie. There were only two or three persons 
round. I called a hack and in no time had her 
in it.” 

Dr. Ring at this moment entered. He soon 
quieted their apprehensions regarding Minnie. 

"She is weak and ill, and I should judge had 
undergone some powerful mental shock. But 
there ’s nothing to be alarmed at. She will soon 
come round.” 

He administered some restoratives. 

How long Minnie lay in her death-like swoon 
she knew not. When she awoke she found her- 
self in her old room and alone. How did she 
come there, she wondered? Was it all a dream? 
But no. Her flight, her interview with Mrs. 
Gildersleeve and Frank, her subsequent wander- 
ings through the streets, — all came back to her 
with a vividness which told her they were no fan- 
tasy. 

Suddenly she started to a sitting position as she 
heard a movement in the adjoining room. Her bed 
was close against the wall, and the partition was a 
thin and flimsy one. 


MINNIE TAKES THE FATAL DRAUGHT. 355 


Now there came a series of low groans, which 
( ended in a piercing shriek. 

Poor Minnie’s heart almost ceased to beat, so 
great was her fright and terror. Fearful thoughts 
crowded upon her brain. All that she had suffered 
was as nought to the images of horror which these 
sinister sounds pictured to her imagination. 

What was this house to -which she had been 
lured? But while she asked this question, and 
before she could pursue the thought further, she 
heard a low voice begin to speak in the next room. 
She listened with suspended breath to what fol- 
lowed. 

"Hist!” said the voice. "The operation is a 
failure ! Nothing more can be done ! The girl is 
doomed ! ” 

"What ! Won’t she live it out?” 

"No. There ’s no hope for her.” 

" Er — what shall we do with the body ? ” 

"Oh! that’s easily seen to,” came the careless 
reply. "I’ve disposed of scores of unsuccessful 
cases, and never got caught yet.” 

"But supposing you should this time?” said the 
questioning voice in hoarse tones. 

" Pshaw ! I ’m in with the police. They ’d see 
me clear. Never fear. There ’s no danger.” 

Presently Minnie heard a pitiful voice, appar- 
ently that of a young girl, speaking in faint and 
mournful tones, — 


356 


DRIVEN TO DESPAIR. 


" Oh ! shall I never recover, shall I never 
recover ! Oh ! give me hope, some hope of life !” 

"No, you’re done for!” replied a brutal voice. 
" So stop your howling.” 

" Oh, my God ! ” wailed the girl. " Must I die ! 
Must I die ! Oh ! I am not fit to die ! Oh ! save 
me ! save me ! Father ! mother ! shall I never 
see you again ! Never have your soft hands upon 
my brow and hear your blessing on your child, 
your lost and sinful child ! Oh ! God ! my fate 
is hard, too hard for one of thy children !” And 
the poor girl groaned aloud in mortal agony. 

"Stop yer noise ! ” commanded a stern woman’s 
voice. 

" Oh ! save me ! save me ! do not let me die ! ” 

cried the girl wildly. " Oh ! will nothing soften 

your hard hearts ! Will no pity, no tenderness 

steal across your souls and plead for me ? Oh ! 

God ! I cannot — I cannot die ! Oh ! Forgive 

© 

my sin ! forgive my sin ! and let me live ! ” 

And sobbing in the depths of woe and despair, 
the poor girl burst into loud wails of lament. 

"Girl! hush yer noise!” cried the woman. 
"You’ll disturb the house with your foolish cry- 
ing.” 

"Oh ! shall I die ! must I, must I die ! oh will 
nothing save me ! Oh, George ! why did you 
bring me here ! Oh I you ’ve killed me ! you ’ve 


i 


MINNIE TAKES THE FATAL DRAUGHT. 357 


killed me ! Oh ! God and the angels bear witness, 
you have killed me ! ” 

Minutes went by, terrible minutes to the mute 
and shuddering listener. Then again she heard 
the man’s voice. 

"It’s all over,” he said. "Now how shall we 
dispose of her?” 

" There is but one way,” came the woman’s 
voice, in surly accents. "You know your old 
trunk on the shed. Well, take that, shove her in 
it, and carry it to Broadway Bridge. Dump it 
over and it ’ll never be heard of again. Be sure 
yer put in plenty of ballast, so it’ll sink, mind 
you ! ” 

" All right,” replied the man. " I ’ll do it.” 

And he went out of the room, the frightened 
bride hearing him shut the door and tramp up 
stairs. She .shuddered in fear, but he did not try 
her door, but she heard his footsteps on the shed, 
and sounds as if he were moving a trunk from its 
place. 

By and by a noise on the landing below 
attracted Minnie’s attention. 

She was impelled to open her door and noise- 
lessly lean over the banisters. She heard voices 
below. 

Mother Ripley and a gentleman were in conver- 
sation. The former was speaking in indignant 
tones. 


358 


DRIVEN TO DESPAIR. 


" I declare,’' she exclaimed, " if it is n’t a down- 
right shame ! There is n’t a woman in the busi- 
ness that has such luck as me ! She ’s the sixth 
within a year that ’s turned sick on my hands.” 

" It is hard luck,” said the gentleman. 

"Well, doctor, tell me honestly, what do you 
think of Sadie’s chances ? ” 

" I think the chances are that she will die.” 

" Then she must go ! ” 

" Can’t she pay her board ? ” 

" No, she can’t. She ain’t got a cent in the 
world. I ’m not going to keep her here for 
nothing.” 

" But where is she to go ? ” 

" I don’t care where she goes ! I can’t be 
troubled with her.” 

" But would n’t it be a fair return for you to 
take care of her, now that she can’t take care of 
herself? ” 

"Stuff! Don’t preach, man. I keep no house 
of the Good Shepherd, nor a charity hospital. 
Business is business. I ’ve got my rent to pay 
and I won’t have any drones in my hive. No, 
she must go ! ” repeated the woman. 

" Come, now, Mrs. Ripley, you can afford to 
give her a decent burial, if, as you say, she has 
paid you well.” 

"You talk like a fool, doctor. Haven’t I a 


MINNIE TAKES THE FATAL DRAUGHT. 359 

license to pay? Have n’t I to keep the eyes of 
the police closed?” 

” I was not aware that you paid a license.” 

"Well, I pay indirectly, perhaps, a heavy 
license ; more than you would imagine. The 
police officers must be protected, you know. 
They must make a show of doing something now 
and then. And speaking of the police officers, I 
must say they are the best set of men that ever 
lived. They have hearts, they have. They won’t 
crowd us, they won’t, if they are treated right, 
j A five-dollar bill goes a long way. Still, you 
can’t give five-dollar bills if you don’t make ’em. 
Therefore, as I said before, this girl must git — 
as good as her has had to git before this.” 

" She says, if she has to go away from here, she 
wants to go to the City Hospital,” said the man. 

" If she wants to go to the City Hospital, let her 
give me permission to pawn her things, and raise 
some money for her to pay the expenses.” 

" A good idea,” said the doctor. " She won’t 
need her dresses any more. She is too ill to 
give any directions. You go and dispose of her 
dresses and give me twenty-five, and I will get 
her into the hospital.” 

A moment later Minnie heard the front door 
close, and then all was silent. 

It would be vain to attempt to describe Minnie’s 


360 


DRIVEN TO DESPAIR, 


feelings as she listened to the foregoing. She had 
recognized Madame Chastini’s voice in one of the 
speakers, and she fancied the other’s was none 
other than that of Dr. Ring. 

All doubts as to the character of the house were 
removed. She was literally caught in the toils. 
No ray of hope was left to cheer her. The sun 
of her life had suddenly set; all, all was dark- 
ness ! 

She was sick unto death. Her head was split- 
ting with pain. Her thoughts were a chaos. 

" Lost ! lost ! lost ! ’’ she moaned. 

” Betrayed, ruined, and brought to this terrible 
house. Who will ever believe, knowing that I 
have been the inmate of such a place, but that I 
am as bad as those who come here voluntarily? 
Oh ! Frank Gildersleeve ! Heaven will exact a 
terrible vengeance for this ! ” 

Her brain Avas whirling. She was almost bereft 
of reason. Suddenly she remembered the events 
of the previous night, — of her visit to Mrs. Gil- 
dersleeve, and Frank’s denial of their marriage. 
She started up wildly from the bed. Desperation 
blinded her to all consequences. Nothing was 
present to her mind but her intense misery and 
the desire to exchange it, even for the unknown 
horrors of death. 

" God forgive a poor, wronged, and miserable 


MINNIE TAKES THE FATAL DRAUGHT. 361 


girl ! Father ! mother ! forgive your unhappy 
daughter ! ” 

And so saying, the miserable girl placed the 
poison she had purchased the night before to her 
lips and drained it to the last drop. Then she 
threw herself back upon the bed. A few minutes 
later, when the doctor returned, Minnie Marston 
lay writhing in agony, fast approaching death ! 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


THE STREETS AT NIGHT. — A FATHER’S SEARCH FOR 
HIS LOST LAMB. 

It was a chill damp night in October. The 
streets were a mass of mud and drizzling ooze ; 
hut the rain had ceased falling, and a faint and 
fitful moonlight was struggling through the sku Fry- 
ing clouds. The street lamps shot out a pale 
uncertain gleam through the mist that sought to 
shroud them. 

People were hurrying along the moist sidewalks, 
elbowing each other without ceremony or apology 
in their anxious haste, perhaps to reach comfort- 
able homes, warm firesides, and the cheerful 
evening meal that awaited them in the bosom of 
their families. 

For most of that moving throng the day’s work 
was over. Best or recreation had been earned. 
But there was one, at least, among them whose 
wearied frame could know no rest ; whose tireless 
labor, beginning with the rising sun, ended not 
with its setting. He was an old man, whose 
whitened hair and bowed figure had become 


a father’s search for his lost lamb. 363 

familiar to the habitual passers on the leading 
thoroughfares. His dress and manner bespoke 
his respectability, and the mute anxious expres- 
sion of countenance with which he met the looks 
attracted toward him involuntarily awoke the 
interest and sympathy of the most careless and 
indifferent. 

There was something intensely appealing in the 
yearning, wistful look which his face habitually 
I wore. It spoke with an eloquence more potential 
I than the most persuasive speech. It made him 
j a marked man in the midst of a multitude. Per- 
fect strangers moved by an irresistible compassion 
lhad stopped him in the street and forced their 
I sympathy upon him even before his touching story 
was confided to their ears. 

Policemen on their several beats knew that 
story by heart. Every day some one of them, 
now in one part of the city, and now in another, 
Was greeted by the old man with the same plain- 
tive inquiry, — always the same ; never varying, 
neither in words nor tones ! The same anxious, 
wistful, half-hopeful question — "Oh! sir! Have 
you heard anything of my child to-day ? ” 

A father searching for his daughter in the 
wilderness of a great city! His only child, his 
one ewe lamb, the hope and prop of his age ! A 
beautiful girl, respected, honored, admired, win- 


364 


THE STREETS AT NIGHT. 


ning troops of friends, whose virtue, truth, filial 
love and duty were the theme of all who knew 
her, disappearing from all human knowledge as 
suddenly and mysteriously as if the earth had 
opened and ingulfed her! Such was John Mars- 
ton’s sad story. 

For three weeks he had been seeking his 
daughter in Boston. Not the faintest clew had 
yet rewarded his search. " Oh ! sirs, Minnie was 
such a good girl ! Can you help me to find her ? ” 
was his constant cry. 

Friends were not wanting to aid him ; and to 
them he told his pitiful story. " Oh ! I could not 
rest until I got tidings of my darling child. I 
sent letter after letter. No one could tell me 
where she was. Then I said, ' I will go to Boston 
myself. I will hunt Boston from palace to hovel. 
A father’s tireless love will give me strength. 
God will raise up friends. I will never give up 
seeking for my poor girl. No, not if I drop down 
dead in the street.’” 

He first visited Minnie’s late employers ; they 
knew nothing of her whereabouts, but proffered 
pecuniary aid. He thanked them and said, " My 
money is almost gone. I parted with my little 
stock in New Hampshire, sold my poor old horse, 
chief dependence for my farm work. Then I sold 
my cow. Poor Dolly ! she had been Minnie’s 


a father's search for his lost lamb. SG5 

pet and playmate. It grieved me to the heart to 
part with her. Her soft eyes seemed to look 
reproachfully at me, and she moaned as I left her 
with her new owner. My eyes filled with tears. 
But I had parted with her for Minnie’s dear sake, 
and for her sake I would part with everything ! ” 

Minnie’s boarding mistress could give no tidings 
of her fate. Maggie Watson, Minnie’s friend and 
confidante, had also disappeared, — whither, no 
one could tell. Every avenue of hope seemed to 
be shut against him. Day after day the stricken 
father presented himself at the Central Police 
Office, until his story became old and his cry 
unheeded ; even there he could gain no intelli- 
gence. One day he passed a house on Portland 
Street. Beneath was a liquor shop ; above he saw 
several girls at a window. At sight of him one of 
them drew back as if ashamed, and hid her face. 

" My God ! My God ! It is — But no ! It 
cannot be my daughter. No, no. She would not 
hide her face from me, — me, her poor, old, dis- 
tracted father.” And the big tears stalled, his 
breast heaved with sobs, his gray locks shook in 
the wind. 

Passing on, he witnessed a funeral in Crescent 
Place. Entering the house, he saw the mourners 
passing round the coffin of a fair young girl. 
She had fallen by malpractice ; fallen in one short 


366 


r I 11E STREETS AT NIGHT. 


hour. Her cheek still bloomed as the rose. A 
Quack had certified to another disease ; thus the 
murderer escaped, and the victim was allowed a 
burial. Frail creatures with painted faces gath- 
ered round and filled the air with hysteric sobs 
and groans. But short-lived were their tears and 
their sighs. 

Ah ! What a sad scene for John Marston ! 
John Marston, the country preacher and anxious 
father ! As he peered into the coffin, he cried, 
w Is it Minnie ? Oh ! Oh ! Is it Minnie ? Thank 
God ! Thank God ! It is not my daughter ! No ! 
No ! Minnie will never, never be found in such a 
house as this ! ” And he reeled from the steps, 
exclaiming, " No ! no ! Thank God ! It is not 
my Minnie ! ” 

Next his weary footsteps led him to the City 
Hospital. Here he saw girls of all ages. Some 
in the last extreme of mortal agony, dying of 
dreadful hurts and malignant diseases. But 
Minnie was not there. One of these was a fair 
young woman of twenty, his daughter’s age. 
She had been rescued that day from drowning ; 
taken out of the water underneath Broadway 
Bridge. How had she come there ? What dire ex- 
tremity had caused her to take the fatal plunge ? 
Was it necessity? Was it hunger? Was it guilt? 
Was it the dread of coming shame? Had she no 


a father’s search for his lost lamb. 367 

home? No fond father or mother, brother or 
sister, to weep and mourn for her loss ? Alas ! 
Alas ! Perhaps it was the old, old story of 
woman’s love and man’s infidelity ! Another 
instance of 

“ One more unfortunate, weary of breath, 

Rashly importunate, gone to her death! ” 

The old man turned shudderingly away. The 
sight of this poor girl, so like his daughter, 
brought to his heart with redoubled force the 
dread and uncertainty which shrouded Minnie’s 
fate. 

"My child ! My child ! ” he cried, in his agony, 
"where, oh ! where art thou, my darling child !” 

Day by day John Marston treads the busy 
streets, from early dawn till late into the night, 
i Slumber is almost a stranger to his eyelids. 
Noon and night, sunshine and storm, are to him 
as one. Shrinkingly he enters the dens of pleas- 
ure and vice. To find his daughter he would 
have invaded the very citadel of darkness. 

At the North End he comes to a saloon where 
a crowd of young men are drinking and carousing 
to the sounds of laughter and profanity. 

" Gentlemen,” he says, humbly saluting the 
party, " oh, can you help me find my daughter, 
my Minnie, my darling Minnie ? ” 


3G8 


THE STREETS AT NIGHT. 


" Hullo ! ” cries a flashily dressed youngster, 
turning on the old man. " Hi ! I say, old cove, 
where did you come from ? ” 

" Oh, my Minnie ! my Minnie ! Help me find 
her ! ” implores the old man. 

" I say, Beeswax, you ’re jolly green,” says an- 
other of the party, surveying J ohn Marston curi- 
ously. " What do we know about yer daughter ? ” 

"By jingo, Fred,” exclaims a third, laughing 
and bringing his hand down heavily on the shoul- 
der of the first speaker. " I say, Fred, that gal 
I saw ye with last night, eh ? Here ’s the old 
man right arter ye. Own up now.” 

" Ha, ha ! ” roars Fred. "I guess this old coon 
ain’t her father ; not by a jugful.” 

"Come, come, boys, let us not make fun of the 
old man,” says the kindlier of the group. And 
he offers John Marston some money, but the old 
man shakes his head sadly and declines it as he 
moves away. 

Still intent on his tireless search, the old man 
applies at a West-End haunt of vice, secretly con- 
vinced that Minnie would never voluntarily seek 
refuge in such a resort, yet resolving to leave no 
stone unturned that might aid him in his quest. 

" Come in,” yells a shrill female voice. 

And the old man steps into the lower parlor of 
the house. Here are assembled some half a dozen 


a father’s search for his LOST LAMB. 3C)9 

frail young women, laughing and chatting with a 
couple of fast men. 

" Step in, boss ; step right in,” says a stout, red- 
haired girl, as John Marston stands in the door- 
way embarrassed. And running up to him, she 
draws him into the room. 

" Glad to see ye,” cries she. " Say, what’ll ye 
take, whiskey or gin?” 

" Is — is there a girl here named Minnie ? ” asks 
the old man, in a low voice. 

" Of course there is,” says one of the girls ; and 
the father’s heart leaps with hope and fear. " Here, 
Jane,” calling a servant to the door. " Here, tell 
Minnie to come down. Tell her her fellow’s 
waiting for her.” The rest of the company laugh 
boisterously at this flippant remark. 

" It cannot — it cannot b q* my Minnie,” says 
John Marston to himself, as he gazed around on 
the coarse features and shameless conduct of the 
inmates. " Oh ! my God ! She — she cannot 
have fallen so low as this.” 

"Hullo!” cries a young woman, bursting into 
the room. " Who wants to see me ? ” 

" This old gentleman,” is the answer. 

" Wal, old horse, what d’ you want?” asks the 
gii-i. 

" Oh, I — I was looking for my daughter,” says 
John Marston. 


24 


370 


THE STREETS AT NIGHT. 


"Wal, ye don’t think I’m your daughter, do 
ye?” 

"No,” says John Marston. "Thank God, you 
are not ! ” 

"What do you mean by that ?” cries the girl, ,| 
starting angrily toward him. 

But the old man looks at her reproachfully, 
sorrowfully shakes his head, and turns away 
murmuring, as he gains the street, — 

"Oh! Minnie! My poor, poor Minnie ! Better 
that you were in your grave, than to find you 
herding with such as these ! ” 

Next he entered the police court. Looking 
anxiously down into the dock, he saw a score uf 
women, mostly young, some fair, and all bearing 
the haggard marks of intemperance and sin. 

"Oh! Can my child be here?” said the old 
man, plaintively, his eyes wandering from one to 
another. He heard an officer say that two of the 
girls were from New Hampshire, and his heart 
sank within him. He clutched the railing and 
gasped, — 

" Point them out to me ! Oh ! If either should 
be my lost child ! ” 

The officer indicated the girls mentioned, and 
called them by name. The old man clasped his 
trembling hands and raised them to heaven, as he 
fervently exclaimed, — 


A father’s search for his lost lamb. 371 


" Thank the Lord ! Thank the Lord ! My child 
is not here ! Oh ! Minnie ! Minnie ! I wrong 
you, my dear one ! My Minnie will never he 
found among such shameless outcasts ! God in 
His mercy will protect her from such a fate ! ” 
Again the old man went on his weary way, 
searching for his only child. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


JERKS AND SAMBO TAKE A STROLL. — FROM EYE TO 
DAWN. 

" Gosh all hemlock ! Ef this don’t beat all 
nater ! It ’s worse ’n anythin’ I ever heard tell 
of ! What do you say, Sambo ? ” 

" Jus’ my ’pinion, Mars’ Jerks,” said our old 
friend Sambo, who in company with Jonathan 
was taking a midnight glance at Boston’s wicked- 
ness. "Ole Mars’ dat’s dead an’ gone was allers 
a-tellin’ what a wicked city Boston was. Declar’ 
to gracious, I nebber t’ought ’t was so berry bad 
afore ! ” 

"Nor I neither,” said Jerks. "Three months 
ago I’d a scouted the idea. But I tell you, I ’ve 
got my eyes open pretty wide since I’ve been 
lookin’ up these ’ere matters. Jerusalem ! What 
we ’ve seen to-night just takes the shine off of 
anythin’ I ’ve seen yet, though ! ” 

They had reached one of the lowest quarters of 
the city, abounding in dark lanes, and noisome 
alleys ; where rickety and tumble-down tenements 
gave shelter to a squalid and degraded population, 
— the offscourings of foreign lands. 


FROM EVE TO DAWN. 


373 


w Wal, how human bein’s can live in such sink- 
holes as this is more ’n I can understand,” con- 
tinued Jerks. "It’s a disgrace ter the city, I 
swow it is ! ” 

"Dat’s jes so, Mars’ Jerks,” said Sambo, with 
a strong expression of disgust. " Why it ’s too 
mean for niggers, let alone white folks. Reg’lar 
poor white trash, dese yer people must he.” 

They were in the act of passing the door of a 
low groggery from which sounds of strife and 
contention were heard. Hardly had they got by 
when half a dozen men struggled out of the nar- 
row portal, and pushing, shouting, and swearing, 
poured into the street, filling the air with their 
clamor. 

Suddenly Jerks saw a knife flash above the 
, heads of the group, then followed an ear-piercing 
shriek and a dull thud as one of the men fell to 
the pavement ! That awful cry was the signal 
I for men, women, and children to pour from the 
surrounding buildings. In less than a minute the 
narrow street was almost choked by a curious and 
excited crowd. 

"Let’s git out of this ’ere, Sambo,” whispered 
Jerks to his companion. " Catch hold of my coat 
an’ follow for dear life.” 

Soon they were clear of the dangerous neighbor- 
hood, and making a rapid cut across the city 
came to the vicinity of one of the bridges. 


374 JERKS AND SAMBO TAKE A STROLL. 

Here the streets were deserted. The dark 
gloom of night was unrelieved by a single star. 
The air was chill, blowing fresh across- the river. 
Suddenly they heard a heavy splash in the water, 
then came a cry that curdled their very blood, — 
a woman’s shrill, heart-rending cry ! 

" By the jumping Jehoshaphat ! What ’s that ! ” 
exclaimed Jerks, darting to the water’s edge, fol- 
lowed closely by the terrified Sambo. 

The cry was repeated again and again, each time 
growing fainter and fainter. Then came the sound ! 
of a vehicle dashing across the bridge, and ap- 
proaching the spot where Jerks and Sambo stood 
vainly trying to pierce the gloom in the direction 
from whence the cries had come. 

The vehicle drew up, and the driver, springing 
from his seat, ran toward the two. 

"Where is she? Can you see her?” he de- 
manded in excited tones. 

Jerks and Sambo answered in the negative. 

" I was half-way over the bridge,” said the 
other, "and saw her climb on to the parapet. I 
whipped up my horse, guessing her intention, 
but she was overboard before I could come up. 
Hark ! ” 

Another cry was borne to their ears. 

" I swan ! I can’t stand that no longer ! ” said 
Jerks. "There must be a boat down here somers. 


FROM EYE TO DAWN. 


375 


By jirniny ! I’m bound ter make an effort ter 
git that poor critter ter dry land ! ” 

The three men rushed hurriedly along the shore. 

w Here you are, hoys ! ” shouted the stranger, as 
once more that appealing cry for help smote their 
ears, but coming now from a point quite near the 
shore. 

In an instant Jonathan was at his side, stripping 
off his coat and vest as he ran. 

" Whereabouts ? ” he asked, peering along the 
dark water. 

" Right there ! ” said the stranger, pointing to a 
figure dimly shadowed forth on the surface of the 
river. 

Without another word, Jerks plunged into the 
chilly water, and with rapid strokes approached 
the object. It was slowly sinking, the head 
already submerged, when reaching out, he grasped 
the body by its clinging garments, and bore it to 
land. 

" Dead, poor thing ! ” said the stranger, com- 
passionately, after they had tried every means to 
restore the body of the woman to animation. 
" It’s no use, I tell you. I’m experienced in 
these things, and there ’s no help for her ! ” 

"It’s tarnation too bad!” exclaimed Jerks. 
" Two minutes sooner, an’ we ’d saved the poor 
critter.” 


376 JERKS AND SAMBO TAKE A STROLL. 

■" Perhaps it ’s just as well,” said the stranger. 

" She must have been in a desperate strait, or 
she ’d never have resorted to suicide. But give 
me a lift, and we ’ll bear the body up the bank 
here to my wagon.” 

Jerks and Sambo did as the other requested. 
The former saw with some surprise as they neared i 
the vehicle that it was an undertaker’s wagon. 

"I had a late job,” exclaimed the stranger. 

" My business frequently takes me out at this time 
o’ night, you see. But jump in,” he added, as, 
after placing the body in the wagon, he mounted 
to the seat. " We ’ll have to take this over to 
the morgue and make our report, seeing there ’s 
no policeman round. You will have a chance to 
dry your clothes there, besides.” 

They soon reached the morgue, situated on 
Grove Street, made their report, and at the re- 
quest of the man in charge agreed to await the 
arrival of an absent official. Ensconced in the 
keeper’s room before a blazing coal fire, Jonathan 
and his two companions soon made themselves 
comfortable. The body of the unfortunate sui- 
cide meanwhile had been laid on one of the slabs 
in the outer room there to await identification, or 
after the lapse of the proper time to be buried at 
the city’s expense. She was apparently but a 
girl in her teens, with traces of former beauty 
yet lingering on her wan and haggard face. 


FROM EVE TO DAWN. 


377 

The conversation in the keeper’s room naturally 
turned for a time upon speculations regarding the 
poor girl’s fate. 

" You are an undertaker then?” Jerks asked 
the stranger during a pause. 

" That has been my business for ten years past,” 
said the other, who seemed to be a talkative and 
good-natured sort of person. 

" Wal, it seems to me it’s a pesky tough sort 
o’ business,” said Jonathan. 

"Like everything else, it’s nothing after you 
get used to it,” said the stranger, smilingly. 
"But I ’ll never forget my first job,” he went on. 
" It almost makes me shudder now to think of it.” 

" Wal , I should like ter hear some of your 
experience,” said Jerks, " ef you ’ve no objections. 
It would kind of while away the time, you see.” 

"No objections in the world,” said the other. 
" I ’ve thought sometimes that we undertakers 
see a great deal more of life , notwithstanding our 
occupation has to do more with death, than people 
will generally credit. The harrowing sights I ’ve 
seen in my ten years’ experience, an’ the families 
broken up, and the suffering and anguish, — ay! 
and the crime and wretchedness, too, — would 
fill a whole volume of itself. But I will give you 
a brief account of my life as an undertaker.” 

And the stranger proceeded as in the next chapter. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


THE UNDERTAKER’S STORY. — REY. JOHN MARSTON’S 
GLEAM OF HOPE. 

"Well, gentlemen,” said the stranger, "I 
became an undertaker in 1870, or thereabouts. 
My first case I shall never forget, nor the feelings 
I experienced in laying out my first body and pre- 
paring it for burial. It was that of a young girl, 
not more than seventeen. She was the only child 
of parents occupying the middle station of life, 
and they doted on her. It was heartrending to 
hear their lamentations. The young girl’s disease 
was consumption, and she made one of the most 
beautiful corpses I ever beheld. I declare, gen- 
tlemen, though I never saw her in life, yet I 
could n’t help crying myself to see so much 
beauty and goodness — for I knew that with such 
an angelic face, she could be nothing else but 
good — cut off just on the threshold of life. Ah ! 
That’s a terrible disease, is consumption, friends, 
and Boston is its favorite harvest-field ! ” 

"Wal, I suppose like everythin’ else, you get 
used ter seein’ such sights ? ” said Jerks. 


REV. JOHN MARSTON’S GLEAM OF HOPE. 379 

" Yes, of course,” replied the undertaker. 
" Though it took me some time, I tell you, before 
I could lay out a dead body without feeling sort 
of squeamish. My very next case, however, 
almost sickened me of the business. It was that 
of a woman who had been murdered, yes, and by 
her husband, too ! The man had come home 
drunk, just drunk enough to be ugly. His wife 
was sick, and lay on the bed as he came into the 
room. ' Git up out o’ that and git me my supper ! ’ 
he growled to her. The poor woman tried to 
rise, but sank back exhausted. ' Oh, you won’t, 
won’t you?’ said the ruffian, staggering to the 
bed. Then he seized her by her long hair, and in 
spite of her shrieks and pleadings, dragged her to 
the floor. 'Now, git my supper, curse you, or 
it ’ll be the worse for you ! ’ he said. But the poor 
wife had not strength enough to rise to her feet, 
and then the brute, with a torrent of oaths, struck 
and kicked her, till, further roused to frenzy by 
her screams, he caught up a stick of wood and 
beat her about the head and face. The neighbors 
now rushed in, and soon the wretch was in the 
custody of a policeman. The poor woman lived 
only long enough to make her deposition as to the 
facts I have related. I buried her two days after- 
ward at Mount Hope.” 

« By the jumpin’ Jehoshaphat ! ” cried Jerks, 


380 


THE UNDERTAKER’S STORY. 


strongly excited by this story, " I ’d jest like ter 
have happened along about that time. Ef I 
wouldn’t have pummelled the sucker ter a jelly.” 

" The next case I had that was worthy of note,” 
resumed the undertaker, " I was called from my 
bed in the middle of the night to go to the dead- 
house at City Hospital for the body of a young 
Irishman. I tried to induce his relatives to wait 
until morning, but they were not to be put off, as 
they had made preparations to ' wake ’ the body 
that night. Upon arriving at the morgue we 
found some difficulty in rousing up the watchman. 
Imagine my surprise and consternation to find 
that the patient was not yet dead ! I was pre- 
vailed upon by his folks to wait until death took 
place. It was rather trying to my nerves, new to 
the business as I was, waiting there in that place, 
and right before me nine dead bodies — just think 
of it, nine bodies of men and women, murders 
and suicides, awaiting identification 1 

In about an hour a truck was drawn alomr the 
corridor to the morgue. On it was strapped the 
body of the young man I was after. It seemed to 
be a great relief to his relatives that he was so 
accommodating as to drop off in time for the 
wake. Shakespeare says that 'there’s nothing 
serious in mortality,’ and even our trade, gentle- 
men, has its little humors. I could n’t help 


REV. JOHN MARSTOx’s GLEAM OF HOPE. 381 


thinking of a story I had heard somewhere about 
King Charles Second’s death-bed. He was a long 
time going off. ' I beg your pardon, gentlemen,’ 
he said to the courtiers around his couch, ' for 
being such an unreasonable time in dying,’ And 
these were his last words.” 

After waiting for the effects of this ghastly jest 
to pass away, the stranger continued : — 

" One of the saddest cases I ever had was that 
of a mechanic who fell from the roof of a new 
house clear through into the cellar. He fell upon 
a pile of bricks and was terribly mangled, dying 
before a doctor could arrive. I was sent for to 
take the body home. On the way I was met by 
his nearly distracted wife, who was hastening to 
the scene of the accident. Oh ! it was awful, 
awful to hear her take on ! We got her back to 
her home, but there a more heartrending sight 
awaited us. The dead man’s five little children 
were filling the house Avitli their sobs and wailing. 
They perfectly idolized their father, and the sight 
of his cruelly torn and bruised body set them 
almost frantic. Poor man ! But one hour before 
he had kissed his wife and little ones, and gone 
to his work happy as a lark. Ah ! little did they 
dream those caresses were the last they would 
ever receive from him ! ” 

The undertaker paused, while there was scarcely 


382 


THE UNDERTAKER’S STORY. 


a dry eye among those who had listened to this 
affecting tale. 

"Wal, I swow,” said Jerks, "that was a pretty 
tough case, an’ no mistake ! Great jiminy ! It’s 
enough ter make a fellow’s heart bleed jest ter 
hear of it ! ” 

" Dat’s jus’ so, Marse Jerks,” said Sambo, shak- 
ing his woolly head and winking and blinking his 
eyes from sympathetic feeling. 

"As an example of the risk we undertakers 
sometimes run,” continued the stranger, " I will 
tell you of an incident that happened to me down 
here at the West End two or three years ago. It 
was not far from this very spot. I received a 
notice one evening to hasten to a house where a 
young man had died suddenly, as the proprietor 
wished to have the body at once removed. The 
character of the house I need not particularize. 
Suffice it is to say, that it was of a kind which all 
great cities are cursed with. The city physician 
had been called, and certified that the man died 
from natural or unnatural causes, just as you 
choose to call it. At least, there were no indica- 
tions of foul play. While attending to my duties, 
a fellow, partly intoxicated, came into the room, 
and commenced interfering with what I was doing, 
and trying to badger me, commanding me to let 
the corpse alone, and so forth. I quickly ordered 


REV. JOHN MARSTON’S GLEAM OF HOrE. 383 


him out of the room, and at last was forced to call 
the proprietor of the establishment. The latter, a 
strong, powerful man, without a word of warning, 
caught the fellow by the nape of the neck, hustled 
him out of the room, and before I knew it kicked 
him headlong down the stairs! I had hastened 
to the head of the stairway, and was just in time 
to see the fellow pick himself up, and apparently 
uninjured, pull something out of his pocket. To 
my alarm, I saw it was a revolver. 

" f Drop ! Quicker ’n lightning ! ’ exclaimed the 
landlord to me ; and so electric were his tones 
that in an instant I had thrown myself down on 
the floor beside him ! Bang ! bang ! bang ! went 
the pistol, — three shots in rapid succession flying 
over our heads, tearing the ceiling and ripping 
through the woodwork of the upper stair close to 
our heads. Before the smoke had cleared away, 
my companion was flying down stairs, three steps 
at a leap, and in less than no time my assailant 
was put hors die combat. You may guess that I 
hastened my job and got away from that locality 
as soon as possible.” 

" By giijger ! A tolerably narrow escape,” said 
Jerks. ”Wal, all trades have their ups and 
downs. I s’pose now, mister, you make a pretty 
good thing out of it, takin’ it good an’ bad ? ” 

"A bare living; scarcely more,” said the 


384 


THE UNDERTAKERS STORY. 


stranger. "One day it’s a pauper, and the city 
foots the bill at a stipulated price, and that a 
small one. Again, and it may be some member 
of a wealthy family, and then comes a fair profit. 
But there are a great many losses. For instance, 
a man comes to you with tears in his eyes and 
wants you to furnish a bang-up funeral for his 
wife. Of course nothing but the very best will 
satisfy him. Well, in the course of a month or so, 
the undertaker presents his bill, and is requested 
to ' call again.’ And so it goes on, — 'call again ! 
call again ! ’ — and he ’s lucky if he don’t have to 
cut down the bill one third or one fyalf in order 
to get anything. We stand to lose more than 
people in almost any other pursuit, from the very 
nature of the business. We can’t, you see, demand 
payment for our services in advance ; there is a 
kind of a natural sentiment against such a thing ; 
and so the undertaker, like the physician, has to 
rely on the honor and integrity of his patrons.” 

"Wal, there’s a good deal in that ’ere,” said 
Jonathan, thoughtfully. "The idea never struck 
me afore. But it must be a pesky mean sort of a 
critter that would try to shirk payin’ such bills as 
them! But land sakes alive! You’re jest the 
man, mister, ter give me some points about city 
life. Lucky I struck you. I ’m kinder lookin’ up 
the seamy side of Boston ; workin’ for a mission- 


REV. JOHN MARSTON’S GLEAM OF HOPE. 385 


ai T> you see, who believes in findin’ out what’s 
the matter with the patient, so the remedy can be 
intelligently applied, you understand.” 

f I RRi willing enough to assist in such a work,” 
said the stranger, with interest. " We undertak- 
ers see human frailty in its worst aspects. Much 
of the hidden sins of city life come under our 
notice. The burial returns that we are obliged to 
make to the city registrar puts us in possession 
of many secrets that would threaten the peace of 
many a family, if made known to the world. The 
undertaker sees much that he is compelled to pass 
over without comment. It is not his business to 
know the cause of a death. That belongs to the 
physician. If no regular physician is present on 
the occasion of a death, then the city physician 
must make an examination of the corpse, in order 
that a burial permit may be obtained. Now the 
city physician’s opinion as to the cause of death 
may be wrong in nine cases out of ten. There 
are many doctors in the city of Boston who have 
knowingly given false certificates as to the cause 
of death. No doubt they have reasons for justify- 
ing themselves. Frequently, in urgent cases, the 
undertaker cannot wait to summon the city phy- 
sician, and calls in some doctor with whom he is 
'acquainted.’ By paying him two dollars, he will 
sign the required certificate, and the next step is 
25 


386 


THE UNDERTAKERS STORY. 


simply to present it to the Board of Health and get 
the burial permit.” 

At this point in the stranger’s narration, the 
keeper of the morgue came in with the announce- 
ment that the official whom they had been await- 
ing had arrived, and they all adjourned to the 
apartment where the body of the unfortunate girl 
had been deposited. 

Late as it was, several people had already 
assembled about the building, drawn thither by 
the report that a dead woman had been taken that 
night out of the river. 

The necessary forms had been gone through 
with, and Jerks and his companions were turning 
away, when the voice of the keeper was heard iii 
expostulation with some one at the outer door. 

"Ah! that alters the case,” said the keeper 
presently and in a milder tone, to an old man 
whom he now admitted. "If you have lost a 
daughter as you say, you are, of course, entitled 
to view the body. This way, sir, this way.” 

The old man, trembling with apprehension, his 
form bowed, his white hair streaming, with diffi- 
culty made his way to the front of the inclined 
dab on which the body of the unfortunate suicide 
lay. He gave one glance, one long and searching 
glance, at the pinched and wan face ; then his coun- 
tenance brightened, as he cried, — 


REV. JOHN MAPSTON’S GLEAM OF HOPE. 387 


"No ! no ! It is not my child ! It is not my 
Minnie ! Almighty God be thanked ! It is not 
my child ! ” 

"I swan! Gosh all hemlock! Wal, now if 
this don’t beat all nater ! ” 

These expressions, sounding in the energy with 
which they were uttered like the short, sharp 
crack of so many pistol-shots, proceeded from 
Jonathan Jerks, who, at the sight of the old man, 
had for a moment been gazing at him with eyes 
wide-open with astonishment, and now rushed 
upon him wringing his hand with these words, - — 
" Wal, who ’d ’a’ thought of seein’ you down ter 
Boston, Mr. Marston ! How du ye du ? ” 

The old man seemed as much surprised at the 
meeting as was Jonathan himself. 

" What, Jonathan ! ” he exclaimed. " Oh ! At 
last I have found a friend, — a true and faithful 
friend ! ” 

"Wal, I calculate you have, Mr. Marston. But 
Jerusalem cricket ! What are you doin’ down in 
these parts an’ at this ’ere time of night? I swow ! 
Ef I ain’t jest flabbergasted at meetin’ you, an’ 
of all places in the world, at the morgue ! ” 

" Oh ! ” said the old man, r day and night I have 
travelled over this city on an almost hopeless 
search. I can know no rest, no sleep, until I 
have found my poor lost girl. I heard two men 


388 


THE UNDERTAKER'S STORY. 


talking about a girl that had been found in the 
river to-night. I followed them to this place ; 
followed them, half believing that it was my 
Minnie.” 

"Minnie ! ” exclaimed Jerks, in bewilderment. 

" Yes. Ah ! Look at that poor creature ! Young 
— scarcely older than my dearest girl. Perhaps 
she was the loved, the worshipped, only child ! 
Perhaps some fond mother is waiting, watching for 
her to come back to her heart and home. Per- 
haps some other heartbroken father is searching 
vainly, vainly, almost hopelessly for some trace of 
his missing child ! Oh ! perhaps my footsteps, 
beguiled, misled so often, may yet bring me to my 
dear one’s side, and find her — thus ! ” 

"Why, what do you mean, Mr. Marston?” 
cried Jerks, excitedly, grasping the old man’s 
arm. "What are you talkin’ about? You don’t 
mean ter say that your darter, little Minnie Mars- 
ton, is in Boston, and lost?” 

The old man slowly bowed his head in assent, 
and then in a few words puts the astounded Jon- 
athan in possession of such of the facts regarding 
his daughter as lie himself knew. 

All that had passed had been witnessed by the 
several occupants of the apartment, who gathered 
round the aged father as he related with touching 
pathos the story of his missing child. 


REV. JOHN MARSTON S GLEAM OF HOPE. 389 

"Wal, I swow!” cried Jonathan, as he con- 
cluded. "Little Minnie Marston, that I used ter 
trot on my knee ! The little gal that I’ve carried 
in my arms time an’ time again ! Why, gentle- 
men,” he said, turning to - the listening group, 
"she was jest the smartest, an’ the cutest, an’ the 
sweetest, an’ the prettiest little witch you ever saw 
in your life. An’ here she’s come down ter Boston 
jest ter help her old father an’ mother, and some 
cantankerous scoundrel has — ” 

But Jonathan, carried away by his feelings to a 
conclusion that each of his hearers perhaps had 
similarly arrived at, stopped short as he perceived 
the elfect his words were having on the old man. 
For John Marston’s face had grown ashy pale, 
and he raised his quivering hand in mute appeal, 
as if in deprecation of the terrible thought Jerks’s 
words suggested. 

"There! There! Cheer up, Mr. Marston,” 
said the latter, supporting the almost sinking 
form of the stricken father. " You are among 
friends here. I was wrong — I know it, feel it! 
Minnie Marston is n’t the girl to be misled by any 
man. Cheer up, I say ! I ’ll help you ter find 
your darter. There ain’t a man here but will 
help you. I can read it in their faces, — every 
man of ’em ! ” 

The undertaker here beckoned to Jonathan, 


390 


THE UNDERTAKER’S STORY. 


and drew him aside. The former had listened 
with the keenest interest to John Marston's nar- 
rative, and now and then he seemed upon the 
point of interrupting him, but forbore to do so. 
Now he whispered a few words into Jonathan’s 
ear. 

" Jerusalem ! You don’t say so ! ” exclaimed 
Jerks, in unbounded astonishment. "When did 
it happen and where ? ” 

" This morning, and at a house at the South 
End.” 

" Jewhittaker ! And she is doin’ well, you 
say?” 

" I was assured so by the physician. He was 
called in time to apply proper remedies, and 
thinks his patient in a fair way to recover ! ” 

At this moment the inspector uttered an excla- 
mation. He had been examining the corpse of the 
drowned woman. In a pocket-book found in her 
dress he had discovered a note. This he passed 
to the undertaker, requesting him to read it aloud. 
The note ran thus : — 

Dear Mother! I am cruelly wronged. Before 
this reaches you, I shall he no more. When I saw 
Minnie Marston’s agony after taking poison at Madame 
Cliastini’s, I resolved on an easier death. Farewell! 
The dark waters cover me. 


Maggie Watson. 


REV. JOHN MARSTON’S GLEAM OF HOPE. 391 


" Oh God ! That is Minnie ! my dear Minnie ! 
Oh heavens ! Is she poisoned ? Tell me ! Pray 
tell me where is Chastini’s house?” said John 
Marston, his gray locks shaking, his head bowing, 
and his bosom heaving with convulsions. And 
the crowd pressed nearer to him, and wept in sym- 
pathy with his agony. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


FRANK’S APPEAL TO HIS MOTHER. — SENT TO THE 
ASYLUM. 

When Frank Gildersleeve left Minnie that 
night, he had fully intended to return. His pur- 
pose perhaps was to abandon her eventually, but 
not at that time. 

Forceps’s plans were not yet ripe. At the proper 
time he would counsel Frank how to act. The 
young man was a passive tool in the dentist’s 
hands. Frank was weak and vacillating by nature, 
the creature and slave of his passions. And now 
what little will he possessed was weakened by 
indulgence in strong drink. Every faculty, as 
well as his bodily powers, was poisoned by his 
rapid course of dissipation. 

Therefore, when he left Madame Chastini’s 
house, he had gone to a fashionable saloon to 
obtain drink. He left the place intoxicated, and 
wandered aimlessly around the town until a police- 
man accosted him. 

"Who are you, my buck?” said the officer, 
seeing by his dress that Frank belonged to respec- 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


393 


table society. " Come, give us your name, and 
where you live, or else I shall have to take you 
to the station-house.” This somewhat sobered 
the young man. He whispered the number of his 
mother’s house, forgetting all about Minnie. 

" Take me home (hie), Mr. Policeman,” he 
stuttered, "and here’s a fiver (hie) for you.” 

The officer, nothing loath, accepted the bribe, 
and assisted the young man to his residence on 
Beacon Hill. 

That evening, as we have seen, Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve was entertaining a select party of friends at 
dinner. Her mortification cannot be described as 
her son staggered into the room and muttered 
over some maudlin nonsense, to the dismay of the 
guests. 

Sambo, however, was luckily at hand, and at a 
glance from his mistress, led the inebriate to his 
chamber. 

It was the next day that Minnie Marston, 
escaping from the abortionist’s house, found her 
way, as already related, to the residence of the 
Gildersleeves. 

Whatever lurking doubts Mrs. Gildersleeve 
may have had as to Frank’s denial of Minnie’s 
story, the proud woman of the world determined 
never to let them be uttered by her lips. She 
seemed to be standing on the crumbling verge of 


391 : frank’s appeal to his mother. 

an abyss. Her pride of wealth and name and 
station all took the alarm. Frank Gildersleeve, 
her only son though he was, had disgraced her 
too deeply already for forgiveness, and if this last 
scandal should come out, she could no longer hold 
her head up as the queen and leader of fashion. 
Something must be done, and at once. 

For this unnatural mother to resolve was to act. 
Two physicians were summoned to the Beacon 
Hill mansion. 

Dr. Lancet adjusted his gold eye-glasses and 
gazed upon Frank with an air of meek benevolence. 

Dr. Scalpel told him to put out his tongue. 

"I’ll see you hanged lirst ! ” roared Frank, 
irritated at the searching scrutiny of the physi- 
cians. 

Dr. Scalpel took a pinch of snuff from a jew- 
elled snuff-box, and with a meaning glance at his 
colleague, said, — 

" Poor young man ! Inclined to be violent, I 
see ! ” 

Dr. Lancet nodded assentingly. 

" Violent ! ” exclaimed Frank, looking suspi- 
ciously at the two doctors. " What do you mean? 
What are you here for ? I am not sick enough to 
require the attendance of two physicians, am I?” 
And the bewildered youth raised himself up in 
his couch, but sank back from weakness. 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


395 


"There, there! Do not distress yourself, my 
dear young friend,” said Scalpel, soothingly. 
"You are only weak and debilitated, that is all.” 

"I know what ails me as well as you do,” 
answered Frank, peevishly. " I ’m burning up 
with fever — scorching inwardly. Brandy has 
done it. I drank to cool one fire — the fire of 
remorse and shame — and only kindled another, 
delirium tremens. Now if you can cure that, why 
don’t you go ahead, instead of standing there like 
a pair of grinning effigies ? ” 

Scalpel and Lancet exchanged commiserating 
glances. This served but to increase the young 
man’s irritation. Excitement and rage lent him a 
fictitious strength. He sprang up, his eyes glar- 
ing, his pale cheek growing hot and red, his fist 
doubled and arm extended at the disciples of 
Galen. 

" Very bad — very bad ! ” said Scalpel, audibly, 
and shaking his head. 

' Bad ! ” yelled Frank, his eyes almost starting 
from their sockets with rage, while he shudder- 
ingly felt the insidious warnings creeping through 
his frame of that fell disease which his headlong 
indulgence in strong drink had engendered. " Y ery 
bad, you say? Ha! Ha! What do you mean? 
What do you mean by that? Speak? Why do 
you nod and wink so mysteriously at each other? 


396 Frank’s appeal to iiis mother. 

Why do you look at me in that cool, calculating 
way, as though you had me mentally under the 
dissecting-knife ! Away ! Away ! Leave me, I 
tell you ! Your very looks stir up all the bad 
blood in me ! Leave me, or by Heaven I shall do 
you mischief ! ” 

And the excited and no longer responsible 
young man suddenly clutched a pitcher from the 
table at the head of the bed and made as if to 
hurl it at them. 

The two doctors fled precipitately to the door ; 
then as Frank, exhausted by his passion, sank 
back once more, Scalpel said, — 

" What a pity ! What a pity ! I fear we can do 
nothing for him, Brother Lancet.” 

" Nothing, but to recommend a straitwaist- 
coat,” said Lancet, gruffly ; and the two worthies 
departed to seek Mrs. Gildersleeve, who was 
awaiting the result of their examination in an 
adjoining room. 

"Well, gentlemen, what is your verdict? ” Mrs. 
Gildersleeve inquired, in a cold, unmoved tone, 
as they entered. 

"I regret to say, madam,” said Scalpel, with 
an appropriate sigh, "that we can offer you no 
hope. Your son is no longer a responsible being. 
There is but one course, I fear, to be taken with 
him. The interests of society in general, and of 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


307 


your family in particular, as well as regard for the 
poor young gentleman himself, require that he be 
placed under some proper and suitable restraint.” 

"'Very well, gentlemen,” said the inflexible 
woman, ” I leave the matter entirely in your 
hands. You will please make out the necessary 
papers that you spoke about, while I will go and 
I see my son. There are pens and paper at your 
! service.” 

" Ahem ! my dear madam,” said Scalpel, de- 
taining her, ”1 would recommend you to be 
careful ; the young gentleman is in an extremely 
violent state, I am pained to say.” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve’s lip curled scornfully. 

" I think he will show no violence toward me” 
she said, haughtily. " Remember, gentlemen, I 
, am his mother ! ” 

And so saying she swept out of the room. 

A favorite domestic, who had been in the family 
for years, had been assigned to act as Frank’s 
nurse from the commencement of his recent 
illness. She was a good-hearted, matronly 
woman. Frank had always been attached to 
her, and with good reason. Mrs. Dawkins, for 
years had filled the place of a mother to him. 
She had nursed him, had shared his childish joys 
'and soothed his boyish troubles. Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve, devoted to society and the demands which 


398 frank’s appeal to iiis mother. 


fashionable life constantly made upon her time, 
was content to leave her children to the care of 
this trusty servant. Thus in course of time there 
grew between Mrs. Dawkins and the neglected 
boy a strong bond of love and sympathy. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve, on entering her son’s cham- 
ber, found that Mrs. Dawkins had resumed her 
place at Frank’s bedside. The nurse was speak- 
ing some soothing words in an undertone, while 
the young man lay back upon his couch, his 
hands clasped over his eyes, which were bedewed 
with tears. His frame was likewise agitated by 
convulsive sobs. 

But these manifestations seemed entirely lost on 
the cold, worldly woman who now approached the 
bedside of her suffering son. No Roman mother 
could have displayed less emotion when sending 
her only child to battle, than did this American 
mother at sight of her boy’s anguish. Was it 
indifference, or was it the result of that worldly, 
heartless training which teaches the suppression 
of all natural feeling and emotion, which stig- 
matizes as low and vulgar the indulgence of the 
purest and holiest and tenderest impulses of the 
human heart? 

"You may retire until I call you, Mrs. Daw- 
kins,” said the lady to the nurse. "I wish to 
have some conversation with my son.” 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


399 


The nurse rose to obey, but Frank with sudden 
energy caught her by the arm, while he cried 
imploringly, — 

" Do not leave me, nurse. I am not fit to pass 
through another such scene as I have just under- 
gone. Pray stay with me, for I know I shall 
become agitated, and perhaps say harsh and bitter 
things, if left alone with my mother.” 

But Mrs. Gildersleeve gave the nurse a look 
which the latter dared not disobey, and in spite of 
Frank’s protestations, she left mother and son 
alone together. 

" I have but few words to say, Frank,” began 
Mrs. Gildersleeve. " You probably already sur- 
mise their import.” 

"You mean, I suppose, that you want to go 
over the old ground again ; to tell me that I am 
a disgrace and burden to you ; reproach me for 
my lack of pride and my contumacy generally,” 
said the young man, acrimoniously. 

" If I thought any such reproaches, or any 
appeal that a mother could make to a son, would 
be of the least avail, Frank Gildersleeve, I would 
gladly make them. But it has got beyond that. 
I have come to tell you of my determination, not 
to reason with you, or to beseech you to change 
your habits of life. It is too late for that. 

" Too late indeed ! ” cried the young man, start- 


400 FRANKS APPEAL TO HIS MOTHER. 

ing up to a sitting posture. " And whose fault is 
it that it is too late? Not mine alone. I know 
that I have been wild. I know that I have not 
been a good son ; that I have scarcely ever per- 
formed a worthy deed. I feel that my life has 
been a sad mistake ; that I have crowded into 
my brief span of years a mass of sin and shame 
and wickedness that should long since have con- 
signed me to a felon’s cell or to an untimely grave. 
But when I see you turn against me ! You, my 
own, yet unnatural mother ! Then ! ah ! ah ! 
nothing but the awe I have for a parent, and my 
reverence for God, could stay my vengeful hand.” 

Then with clinched hands and rolling eyes he 
sank back exhausted and fell asleep, Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve watching the mean while. When he awoke 
he said, — 

" Why are these doctors again here, and feeling 
my pulse? I am not sick. I am neither sick 
nor am I insane. Why call them here ?” 

"You cannot govern your appetite,” said the 
mother. " I am going to send you to the asylum.” 

"What! You! You, my mother ! You who 
still give liquor to your guests, and sneer at tee- 
total ism ! Can you, mother, incarcerate your only 
son for habits you have taught him?” 

"The mansion must be closed. We cannot 
leave you at liberty. You have disgraced the 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


401 


family long enough. Society demands your 
restraint.” 

" Society ! Society ! What has Society done 
for me? What do I owe to Society? It has 
taught me to drink, to swear, to gamble. It 
is heartless. Its chief religion is selfish greed. 
Even ministers of your own creed are members 
of the drinking club. Society ! Society ! Did you 
say ? Ah ! I hate it ! I hate its very name. 
My blood curdles at the thought. Society once 
petted me and flattered me. I was its idol. But 
now it casts me off. I am no longer its ornament, 
but its victim. Victim of pampered wealth and 
luxury.” He continued : — 

" Oh ! that I had been the son of a hodman, a 
ploughman, a tradesman, a mechanic, — anything 
but the son of a rich man. Then I should have 
been taught a trade, had developed physical health 
and happiness, and not have been too proud to 
stoop, and too indolent to work.*’ 

"But you have wrought your own destruction, 
and must suffer the penalty.” 

"Yes, my mother, in part I have. But have I 
not suffered enough ? Do not crowd me. Do not 
persecute me ! Do not, as a mother, treat me 
worse than a felon ! The worst criminal is 
allowed trial by judge and jury. If guilty, his 
incarceration is limited, — limited to a few months 
26 


402 


frank’s appeal to iiis mother. 


or years, at most. If innocent, he is set free, — 
free as the air he breathes. Now this appetite 
yon implanted in me, it will last forever. Then 
am I to be forever held in durance for your sin ? 
Who is to set me free? Who, when you are 
away to Europe ? 

"You say I cannot be trusted. Admit it. I 
am but a worm, or I should not submit to this. 
But whom have I injured by my conduct? Who 
is hurt by my fall? What bills are not paid? 
What hackman not rewarded? What policeman 
not fed? What person ever assaulted? Noth- 
ing suffers but Society. Ah, yes ! That very 
Society which has made me what I am, — the sot 
you see ! Oh ! mother, listen ! Listen to my 
word. Before you touch another glass, before 
you again put the bottle to your own lips, or your 
neighbors’ lips, before you forget the besotted 
death of my eider brother, and the sudden demise 
of my father, oh ! stop and think ! Stop ! stop ! 
before you say the only son of Augustus Gilder- 
sleeve shall die in an insane asylum ! ” 

" But you may not die ! You may recover.” 

"Recover! No! Never! The blow is struck. 
This last, this heaviest stroke has already broken 
my heart. As sure as you go abroad and leave 
your son in a prison cell, you will never again 
see him alive. I never asked for an existence. 1 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


403 


shall not retain it long. The mother that gave me 
— she .can have it back. Hear it, mother! 
Hear me ! Ere your foot touches this threshold 
again, Frank Gildersleeve is' in his grave.” 

"It is useless for you to go on in this strain,” 
said Mrs. Gildersleeve, coldly, as he paused. 
"My time is loo brief now to listen to the wander- 
ings of a distempered imagination.” 

"But you shall hear me!” cried the unhappy 
youth, roused to a pitch of wild excitement by his 
mother’s bearing. " I have stood in awe of you 
since my earliest childhood. You have chilled 
and repressed every source of pure and natural 
feeling in my breast. I can remember how you 
repulsed my childish proff rs of affection ; how you 
turned a cold ear to my lisping words of love, and 
ordered me into the nursery, and to the care of 
hirelings, lest I should discompose your fashion- 
able attire, or my touch should desecrate or soil 
your ribbons or laces. Such was the subjection 
you kept me in, that it is not to be wondered at, 
that I have never had a will of my own You and 
your example first led me to court the fascinations 
of the winecup. At the family meal I first tasted 
strong drink, for wine in this house has always 
been as free and plenty as water ; and that taste 
has grown to a desire, and that desire to an appe- 
tite, and that appetite to a frenzy, until it has left 


404 Frank’s appeal to his mother. 

me the weak and debased creature you see before 
you, — - without a joy, without a care, ay ! and with- 
out a hope to cheer me ! Oh ! mother ! mother ! 
Can you stand there, as unmoved, as icily cold as a 
marble statue ; can you look down upon the 
utter and wretched ruin of your only son, without 
one sign of pity and love, — without a sigh, with- 
out a single tear ? ” 

He paused as if he had hoped by this passionate 
appeal to rouse some dormant spark of maternal 
feeling in that proud bosom ; but he might as well 
have uttered those heart-rending words to the 
inanimate marble itself as to that frozen, immov- 
able semblance of a woman. 

"When you have finished these wild ravings, 
Frank Gildersleeve,” she said still coldly, as he 
paused, " which I regard as the evidence of a 
disordered mind merely, I will inform you of the 
matters which induced me to come here.” 

" Ravings, you call them l ” exclaimed the 
young man, driven almost to the verge of mad- 
ness. " Oh ! cruel, iron-hearted mother ! Can 
such an anomaly in nature exist? Can a mother 
shut out every spark of sympathy for her only 
son ? Can she see him lying before her eyes, sick 
unto death, crushed in spirit and hope, yearning 
for one loving word, one pitying glance, one 
tender caress, and not feel the tie of nature ; 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


405 


experience no quickening throb, no human sym- 
pathetic emotion? Such cold, such cruel lieart- 
lessness would shame a heathen parent ! Oh ! ” 
he cried, clasping his trembling hands in a gesture 
of the most piteous supplication, " Oh ! mother ! 
for the love of heaven, for humanity’s sake, in 
the sacred name of God, show me by a word, a 
look, a sigh even, that you are not all marble, 
that I am not the offspring of a callous, heartless, 
soulless monster ! ” 

The energy which had sustained the young man 
in this burning appeal, which seemed to be wrung 
from his very soul, left him with the last words, 
and he burst into a passion of tears as he again 
fell back. 

Not even this sufficed to move the implacable 
woman. Not a nerve trembled, not an eyelid 
quivered. Whether that terrible appeal, which 
was also an awful accusation, pierced the armor 
which she had accustomed herself to wear over 
every feeling, was known to herself alone. Per- 
haps in after years that scene may rise up and 
confront her, bringing with it an agony of 
remorse and unavailing regret ! 

But now, she only waves her hand impatiently, 
as she says in measured tones, • — 

" Now that you have apparently exhausted this 
tragic strain, Frank Gildersleeve, please listen to 


40G 


Frank’s appeal to iiis mother. 


me. You know that I have long planned to take 
your sister with me to Europe this season. Ger- 
trude’s health absolutely requires the change. All 
our arrangements were perfected, and we were to 
have started this week. Your folly, which has 
resulted in your present illness, has to some ex- 
tent disarranged our plans. But I do not feel 
called upon to give them up entirely, and have 
merely postponed our departure for a day or two. 
While we are gone this house will he shut up, 
consequently it will he necessary that you should 
he removed to some other place, where you can 
have proper care and medical attendance. Do 
you follow me so far ? ” 

" Yes,” said Frank, bitterly. "You mean that 
you are going to leave me to the care of strangers 
and mercenaries.” 

"I repeat, that you will have the best of care 
and attention, and when we return I hope to find 
you a changed and a better man.” 

" Where am I to. he taken, mother?” 

"Not a great ways from here,” said Mrs. Gil* 
dersleeve, evasively. "It is enough for you to 
know at present that you will be left in good 
hands.” 

" Oh ! Let me remain here ! Let me die in my 
own home ! ” moaned the youth. " Mother, I do 
not think I am long for this world. Do not gc 
away ! Do not leave me to die alone ! ” 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


407 


" There ’s no danger of your dying, Frank. 
Your physicians assure me that you will speedily 
recover your bodily health.” 

" When, then, do you intend to make this 
change ? When are you going to Europe ? ” 

" Day after to-morrow the steamer in which we 
have taken state-rooms will sail.” 

" Oh ! my God ! ” moaned Frank. " So soon . f 
When am I to be removed?” 

" To-morrow morning. Now, as you will prob- 
ably desire to see Gertrude, and as there will be 
no opportunity to-morrow, I will send her to you. 
I am glad to find that on the whole you take this 
so calmly.” 

And so saying, Mrs. Gildersleeve passed out of 
the room. She little knew what was passing in 
her son’s mind. She had been unable to deceive 
him altogether about the destination to which she 
had resolved to send him. He felt that she had 
in view some project that menaced him with the 
loss of his liberty. What that project was, he 
hardly dared imagine. But he knew that he was 
in too helpless a state to oppose her will. A few 
moments later Gertrude entered the apartment. 

" I am so sorry, dear Frank,” she said, " that you 
are so sick. Mamma has told you that we are 
going day after to-morrow, and I have come to 
say good by.” 


408 Frank's appeal to his mother. 

Frank was on the point of asking her aid to 
thwart the purposes of his mother, but on second 
consideration he decided otherwise. Owing to 
her innocence and inexperience, Gertrude could 
not render him any assistance. He knew that his 
sister loved her mother devotedly, and he loved 
the innocent girl too much to inflict a pang upon 
her by discovering to her his mother’s heartless- 
ness. 

" Gerty — sister,” he said, struggling for com- 
posure, "I have not been much of a brother to you, 
but we have never quarrelled that I can remember. 
You will think kindly of me when — when you 
are away.” 

" Of course I will, Frank dear. I shall never 
cease to think of you and to pray for you. I wish 
you were going with us, but mamma says it is 
impossible. Try and get well, dear brother, by 
the time we come home.” 

"I shall try, certainly, dear. And now before 
you say good by, I want you to promise to do me 
a little favor. I have written a hasty word to 
some one that you do not know, and I want it to 
be posted to-morrow without fail. Will you mail 
it for me, sister? ” 

"I will, my dear brother; that’s a very small 
favor, I am sure. Is there nothing else I can do 
to serve you ? ” 


! 


SENT TO THE ASYLUM. 


400 


" Nothing, Gerty; nothing, little sister. Oh! 
Minnie, Minnie,” he exclaimed, "what have I 
done?” Then turning to Gertrude. "Think 
kindly of me, and now kiss me once more. 
Good by ! good by ! ” 

"There, there! Oh! how hot your poor 
head is. Let me put my hand upon it. How 
your temples are throbbing ; let me sit beside you 
and keep my hand upon your head until you fall 
asleep. There, now, does n't that feel better?” 

"It does; it does, a great deal better, Gerty.” 
And Frank fell into a doze, murmuring, "God 
bless you, little sister ! God bless you ! ” 

Gertrude sat by his bedside with her hand upon 
his head, until his regular breathing told her he 
was asleep. Then she left the apartment on 
tiptoe. 

She found her mother waiting outside of the 
door. 

"What letter is that you have in your hand, 
Gertrude ? ” queried Mrs. Gildersleeve. 

Gertrude informed her. "Very well; give it 
to me, and I will see that it is sent.” 

But the message Mrs. Gildersleeve sent was : 

" Frank has been sent to a Lunatic Asylum , 
hopelessly insane !” 

The next day Frank Gildersleeve was taken 
away in a close carriage, whither he knew not. 


410 Frank's appeal to his mother. 


Two days later Mrs. Gildersleeve and Gertrude 
departed for Europe, and the elegant mansion on 
Beacon Hill was closed for the season, left solely 
to the guardianship of the faithful Sambo and Mrs. 
Dawkins . 

"I forbid any of my servants to visit Frank in 
his retreat,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, sternly, "as 
they would distract his mind, cause him to be 
discontented, and make recovery doubtful.*’ 

" Then I must see him once alone by myself 
before he leaves,” said Mrs. Dawkins. "This may 
be my last sight of the dear boy.” 

What transpired in that interview may appear 
in the sequel. Suffice it to say, that Mrs. Daw- 
kins’s sympathy for poor Frank lost her, at last, 
her situation. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


IN A MAD-HOUSE. — FUNERAL WITHOUT A MOURNER. 

The light of a wintry dawn streamed in at the 
grated window of a room in Dr. Mildmay’s cele- 
brated asylum for the insane. That chill morning 
gleam fell upon the figure of a young man, in 
whose emaciated and ghastly countenance it would 
be difficult to recognize any trace of resemblance 
to Frank Gildersleeve. And yet it was he. 

In a weak and semiconscious state, Frank had 
been conveyed to the institution. The thirst for 
intoxicating stimulants which was consuming him 
had been indulged at the last moment by advice 
of the physicians whom Mrs. Gildersleeve had 
consulted, as the surest means to produce a quies- 
cent state. It was thus he had reached the asy- 
lum. For three days' he had now been in the 
hands of Dr. Mildmay, and as yet had not been 
awakened to a realizing sense of his situation. 

Was Frank Gildersleeve insane? 

It would be a difficult question to decide, even 
with the help of a legislative investigating com- 
mittee, how many people are yearly immured in 


412 


IN A MAD-HOUSE. 


such retreats, who are in the full and complete 
possession of their faculties. Society, in its 
anxious regard for its own safety, frequently 
encroaches on the rights and liberties of its indi- 
vidual members. The Golden Age of personal 
security has not yet arrived, but we may fer- 
vently thank heaven that our epoch exhibits a 
striking advancement in this respect over other 
periods, in the multiplied and increasing safe- 
guards which are beinof thrown around individual 

e> o 

rights. 

The certificate of two physicians of high stand- 
ing had pronounced Frank Gildersleeve insane. 
His frequent fits of violence would seem to sus- 
tain their conclusion. That he was rational on 
many points did not militate against the position 
they had taken. His excessive dissipation had 
undoubtedly weakened his mind, and there were 
indications that softening of the brain, if it had 
not already set in, could only be retarded by a 
course of treatment. There is no question but 
the unfortunate young man might have been safely 
treated in his own home. This, however, did not 
suit the wishes or the convenience of his proud 
and cold-hearted mother, and so he had been 
sentenced to the retreat of Dr. Mildmay. For 
three days Frank had remained in this apathetic 
state, submitting generally to all that was required 


FUNERAL WITHOUT A MOURNER. 413 

of him, hut at last manifesting impatience, and 
on one occasion breaking out into a lit of such 
extreme violence that he had been placed for 
: safety in a padded cell. It is here that we now 
find him. 

He moves restlessly in his slumber, and every 
now and then mutters some incoherent words. 

Suddenly he shrieks out, — 

"No! No! It was not my doings ! I never 
meant to harm you. OH ! Minnie ! Minnie ! Oh ! 
my God ! Why did I ever leave you, dear 
Minnie ? Ah ! Minnie would not have forsaken 
me in my trouble nor turned me off as my mother 
| has.” 

His eyes unclose as he starts up in bed, and 
passes his hand slowly over his forehead. 

"It was only a dream, after all,” he murmurs, 
his gaze slowly travelling around the apartment. 
"Ha! Am I awake or am I still dreaming? 
What does this mean? Where am I? Not at 
home, surely ! I can’t remember any such room 
as this in the house ! Where is all my handsome 
furniture? ” he says, looking at the walls. "Where 
my pictures and books, and all my costly knick- 
knacks and trifles ? Why, this place is as bare as 
a tomb ! Not a chair, not a table ! Ha ! what am 
I lying on ? A mattress laid on the floor — no 
bed ? What does it mean ? ” 


414 


IN A MAD-IIOUSE. 


No glimpse of the terrible truth as yet breaks 
in upon his mind. He stares curiously at the 
walls on either hand, which are all covered with 
the thick pad designed to prevent the patient from 
beating out his brains during some paroxysm of 
madness. He touches it, strikes it with his 
clinched fist, then springs to an erect position and 
presses both hands to his brow in mute bewilder- 
ment. 

Above his head, at the end of the room, he now 
perceives a grated window. To this object he 
feebly moves, with the same wondering and 
bewildered expression on his face. But the win- 
dow-sill is high above his reach. Slowly he 
retreats backward, his eyes still fixed on the 
window, until he arrives at the opposite end of 
the room. From this angle of sight he can see 
something of the outside world, and seemingly 
hung in mid-sky, a large, bright oval object on 
which the rays of the dawn are phndng. It is the 
distant dome of the State House, and its associa- 
tions instantly recall his scattered recollections. 
Like a flash of light, memory irradiates his 
obscured mental vision. Ilis last interview with 
his mother, the examination of the two physicians 
and their significant observations not then under- 
stood, and all that had occurred on that day, came 
back to him like a swift, rushing tide. 


FUNERAL WITHOUT A MOURNER. 


415 


"Heaven help me ! ” he cries, tearing his hair in 
a sudden frenzy. " I see it all now ! My moth- 
er’s threat has been indeed fulfilled ! I could not, 
dared not believe she would go to that extremity. 
May God forgive her ! She has put me in a mad- 
house.” 

He flung himself upon the floor, grovelling 
there in abject misery, uttering loud moans and 
piercing cries. 

" Sambo, Sambo ! will nobod} r come to speak 
to me ? Locked up and alone ! What can this 
mean? Hillo, there! Does anybody hear me? 
My God, my head is splitting and I am afraid to 
be alone. Hillo ! hillo ! No answer ! Oh for a 
friend — a hackman, a bar-tender, a servant, the 
bootblack who used to black my boots — any- 
body ! O my God ! why am I locked up in this 
place and left here alone ? What does it mean ? ” 
"Shut up ! ” said a gruff voice. 

" Ah ! somebody at last,” exclaimed the miser- 
able youth; "thank God for his presence, even 
though he prove an enemy ; say, who ’s there ? ” 
"You keep quiet or it will be worse for you.” 

" Let me out ! ” 

"Ha! ha! ha!” 

" Where am I ? ” 

" ’Sylum.” 

"What?” 


416 


IN A MAD-HOUSE. 


" ’Sylum, of course.” 

" What kind of an asylum ? ” 

"What kind? Insane ’sylum, of course.” 

" Insane asylum ! 0 , I ’ll soon get out of this 

place. I ’ll write a note to Forceps at once, and he 
will soon get me out.” 

" You may write as many notes as you please,” 
said the keeper ; " they won’t go out of here. 
You ’ve come here for your good, and have been 
committed reg’lar, everything properly done, — 
doctors’ certificates all correct. Physicians in 
good standing — respectable, learned — make in- 
sanity a special study. No good for you to kick. 
You are here, and here you must stay till your 
friends give the order for restoring you to liberty.” 
So saying, the keeper moved olf, and Frank was 
again left alone. 

His thoughts were bitter. 

" An insane asylum,” he soliloquized ; " it has 
come to this at last. Placed here to preserve the 
credit of the Gildersleeve family. The keeper is 
right. Here I must stay until those who incarcer- 
ated me give the order for my release. If I had 
committed a burglary and been sentenced to the 
State prison, I would be discharged at the expira- 
tion of my sentence. If I was arrested for any 
crime, I would have a fair trial, and if shown to be 
innocent, would be discharged. If found guilty, 


FUNERAL, WITHOUT A MOURNER. 417 

I the term of my imprisonment would he stated, 
|, and I might shorten that by good conduct. Na y, 
: if I were even sold into slavery, or cast away on 
a desert island, I might hope for redemption or 
rescue, but there’s no hope of liberation from a 
mad-house until it please those to relent who 
placed me here. I may stay here for life. The 
door has closed behind me. Family pride stands 
between me and liberty. Oh, heaven, why are 
such outrages permitted in a free and enlightened 
country ? It would have taken twelve men to 
deprive me of liberty if I had been accused of 
crime. I have done nothing against the law, yet 
the purchased signatures of a couple of rascally 
physicians are enough to hold me here forever. 
Oh, that I had n’t drank that brandy ! There ’s 
where they got their advantage. I ’m doomed ! 
Oh, for a friend — anybody that cares for Frank 
Gildersleeve ! But nobody cares for me ! I ’m 
as friendless as the most miserable outcast. The 
only one that ever cared for me I cast off. Oh ! 
Minnie ! Minnie ! Forgive me ! God is taking 
vengeance on me for that wrong. They say the 
man who wins a woman’s love and tramples upon 
it never prospers. The curse is falling on my 
head ! Vengeance is on my track. How I shake ! 
Oh, for a glass of brandy ! I ’ll soon go mad ! Oh, 
j my God ! my God ! how will this end ! I ’m going 
27 


418 


IN A MAD-HOUSE. 


to have delirium tremens , and then it ’s all up with 
Frank Gildersleeve ! ” 

"How do you feel? ” 

Frank looked up and saw a face peering through 
the wicket of his cell door. 

" Miserable ! ” he answered. 

"You must keep calm.” 

" How long am I to remain here ? ” 

" Till you are cured.” 

"Cured of what?” 

" Ha ! ha ! that ’s good ; the old story. You are 
sane, I suppose.” 

"I am just now, but I don’t expect to be so 
long, if I am kept here.” 

"Oh, don’t abuse us. We don’t take people in 
here to make them insane, but to cure them. 
This is one of the finest institutions in the State.” 

"I will pay you well, if you will let me out.” 

"Your mother will pay me better for keeping 
you in.” 

" My mother ! my mother ! ” cried the astonished 
man ; then he paused and stared ! " My mother ! 

Ah! Did my mother send me here?” And his 
bosom heaved, and big tears rolled down his 
cheek ; he fell back at last in despair. How long 
he lay he knew not, but when he awoke he was 
sobered, completely sobered from intoxication. 

" My mother ! ” he said, as he gazed at the barred 


FUNERAL WITHOUT A MOURNER. 


419 


window with his waking eyes, and looking out 
upon the world which he had lost. " My mother ! ” 
That name seemed like a sweet bird to him ; a 
bird of hope and love. A bird with bright wings 
and fair plumage ; but alas ! to be seen no more ! 
That bird of motherly hope seemed just flown out 
of that window, never to return. He gazed and 
gazed, and poured out his thoughts towards the 
blue sky in utter despair. " My mother ! could 
she do it ? Ah ! alas ! I have no mother ! She 
is not my mother ! She has disowned me ! I 
have no hope, no friend on earth now.” 

And from that moment Frank Gildersleeve 
lost all spirit, and resolved to die. Day by day 
he grew thin and pale, his head bowed, his heart 
fainting, his spirits drooping like a clipped bird 
that had fallen from the soaring flock with no 
more courage to rise. Once more only did he 
mount to that window, gaze upon the Capitol 
dome, see Beacon Hill, witness the shades of 
his home, and the fortune, the fountains and trees 
which he was never more to enjoy. 

A telegram was sent to the mother, ' r If you 
don’t come soon, you will not see your son alive.’’ 
That proud mother did not come, and the poor 
boy died among strangers. By stranger hands 
his eyes were closed. By stranger hands laid into 
his coffin, and by stranger feet followed to the 


420 


IN A MAD-HOUSE. 


tomb. By stranger hands settled to his last rest- 
ing-plaee, by stranger hands the sod is covered. 

Thus died the eloquent, the gifted, the hand- 
some, the generous Frank Gildersleeve. Died in 
sia’ht of his fortune, his home, and of Harvard’s 
halls he once adorned ; died without a watcher or 
a friend. 

Why did he fall ? Why ? Because of culture 
without a conscience. Because of liberalism. " Go 
as you please” doctrines of life. It teaches no 
self-denial. No heroic self-sacrifice. It sets up the 
decanter in place of the altar. Science for relig- 
ion. Molecules for God. It gives no warning to 
the ungodly. If your house is on fire, it sounds no 
alarm. If a drawbridge is open, gives no signal, 
no warning. No streets marked " dangerous.’’ 
No tide waiter to shut the gates of sin. Pulpits 
must stand with Quaker guns and blank cartridges, 
never firing upon the advancing foe, never strik- 
ing the thunder-clap of reform. So I am blamed, 
harshly blamed, for making this exposure, reveal- 
ing Boston’s sins and sounding the tocsin of alarm ! 

One time Frank was serious. It was at D. L. 
Moody’s Tabernacle meetings. He felt himself 
lost and wished to be saved. Then it was that a 
certain liberal preacher assailed the evangelist and 
his work. 

His pulpit had no Quaker guns now. The shots 


FUNERAL WITHOUT A MOURNER. 


421 


Were hot and heavy. But alas ! they were fired, 
not against the foe, but against the Redeemer’s 
kingdom. Oh, what a blow was that to the 
hopes of the lost ! Christ’s own blood-redeemed 
fort, turned against its builder ! Why choose a 
pulpit to assail the Bible ? Why take a church ? 
Why call yourself Christian? Ah! You know 
that the fodder comes only through the fold of the 
Shepherd. So you stay for the fodder and starve 
the sheep. Why not take a hall and call it by a 
heathen name? Go under true colors ? Ah, then 
you could n’t sustain yourself twelve months, and 
you know it ! Oh ! Christianity ! Christianity ! 
What foes assume thy garb ! What shepherds 
fatten in thy pastures ! 

Those assaults upon the saving grace of God 
met with rounds of applause. Kid-gloved gentry 
clapped their hands ! Gold-headed canes came 
down with a " thump ” ! Excited men with brandy 
breaths whispered, " That is the preaching for me.” 
Why does such a man take $5,000 a year for pull- 
ing down what he cannot build up in fifty years ? 
Why stand inside the walls to fire your Master’s 
fort? Why not comedown, come out ! Stand on 
your manhood, not on a borrowed name ! Go 
with your class ! Go where the fifty -and-four 
have already gone in Boston. Gone into retire- 
ment. Gone where the " woodbine twineth.” 


422 


IN A MAD-1JOUSE. 


Frank’s mother fell in with the views of Moody’s 
assailant Her son saved by grace ? No, never! 
Better not be saved at all. So he died ! But 
extremes meet and vibrate. Beacon Hill drifts 
towards Catholicism. Frank’s sister, Gertrude, 
is all devotion, in fact she is crazed with church 
mania. She intends to abandon the world, join 
a convent, and give the Gildersleeve estate to the 
charities of the church. We will see, time will 
determine. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


MINNIE FOUND AT LAST. — PATHETIC MEETING OF 
CHILD AND PARENTS. 

” I swow ! If we hain’t stumbled square on the 
house ! ” said Jonathan Jerks, stopping before a 
large brick dwelling at the South End. 

w Yes, sah, Marse Jerks ! ” said Sambo. " I de- 
clar’ if dar ain’t Madame Chastini’s name on de 
door. Golly ! We ’re in luck for sure dis time.” 

" Run back quicker ’n lightnin’ an’ tell Mr. and 
Mrs. Marston, Sambo,” cried Jerks; "tell them 
we ’ve found the place.” 

And Sambo, delighted to be of use, flew to do 
as he was bidden. Jerks had not long to wait. 
Soon he descried the negro, accompanied by Mr. 
and Mrs. Marston, hastening toward him. 

The aged couple were deeply agitated. Their 
hopes, so many times baffled, at last seemed about 
to be realized. 

" Oh ! ” exclaimed the old man. * You are sure 
that you are not mistaken, Jonathan?” x 

" Mistaken ! Just look at the name on the door. 
No, sir. Go right up the steps and ring. We’ll 


424 


MINNIE FOUND AT LAST. 


stay here an’ see that they don't refuse yon admit- 
tance. If they do, why there ’s a policeman at the 
corner of the street, an* we ’ll call upon him if 
necessary.” 

Mr. Marston, supporting his trembling wife up 
the steps, pulled the door-bell. The door opened, 
and a servant, not without some hesitation, ushered 
them into the vestibule. 

" Do you want to see the madame ? ” the girl 
asked. 

" I want my daughter, my Minnie ! Where, 
where is my child?” cried Mr. Marston, clutching 
the servant’s arm. 

"Oh! You ’re the father of the girl that tried 
to kill herself, eh?” said the servant, brutally. 
" Well, she’s up in room four, second flight. But 
I don’t know whether you can see her or not. 
Wait here and I ’ll ask the madame.” And the 
girl hurriedly left them. 

While waiting, John Marston saw in the adjoin- 
ing parlor two men, having the appearance of 
men of wealth and culture, merchants of note, 
perhaps. They were talking to two flashily 
dressed young girls who had just been called 
down stairs to meet them. To these senseless, 
ignorant butterflies of vanity they were making 
all sorts of apologies, and offering tender atten- 
tions. 


MEETING OF CHILD AND PARENTS. 425 

Pardon me, my ducky, my darling, have I 
kept you waiting too long?” said one. 

"Now don’t be angry with me, my little pet, 
my dolly, my sweetheart, now will you?” said 
the other, patting her under the chin. 

" My God ! My God ! Is my child in such a 
house as this?” said John Marston, aghast, as he 
gazed upon the gaudy pictures on the walls, and 
overheard this vapid conversation. 

" Oh ! I cannot wait, John ! ” said the asritated 
mother. " I will not be denied the sight of my 
child. She said room four on the second flight, 
did she not?” 

And Mrs. Marston, while speaking, without 
waiting for an answer, advanced quickly to the 
staircase. John Marston, scarcely less agitated 
than his wife, placed his hand on her arm. 

"You — you will be kind and tender to her, 
wife ! ” he said. 

"Kind and tender, John!” she repeated, re- 
proachfully. " Could I be harsh and cruel to our 
child who is at this moment, perhaps, hovering 
on the border of the grave? No! No! I will 
take her to my bosom and let our Minnie see that 
her mother is the same to her as ever ! ” 

The mother dashed up the two flights, opened 
the door, and saw upon the bed a female form 
with hair dishevelled, but with face so pale, so 


426 


MINNIE FOUND AT LAST. 


attenuated that she cried in amazement, " Oh, 
this is not my child, it cannot be my daughter ! ” 
And she gazed doubtingly upon the ghastly, 
sunken features, so unlike the lovely countenance 
of her dear Minnie. "No! no!” she said, hesi- 
tatingly, " it is not my daughter ! it cannot be 
my Minnie ! my Minnie ! my dear Minnie ! ” 

Ah ! that word " Minnie ! Minnie ! ” falling on 
the dull, cold ear of the prostrate girl, was as a 
voice from the spirit world. " Minnie ! Minnie ! ” 
The words thrilled her senses ; then her heart 
beat anew, then a twitch of the nerve, a quick 
throb of the pulse, a long breath, a sigh, a shud- 
der, and all was still again. 

"Minnie! Minnie! do you know me?” Still 
that w T ord " Minnie ! Minnie ! ” found response in 
the chords of her soul, like the long silent strings 
of an JEolian harp swept by spirit hands. At its 
first whispers, her half-conscious spirit was wan- 
dering back to the granite hills. Back to the 
heights of Dixville Notch, to father and mother, 
to warbling brooks and falling cataracts ; to the 
music of pine-trees, the song of birds, and all the 
sweet associations of childhood, innocence, and 
home. 

Then, in a twinkling, the vision brought her to 
the perils of the city. Her first sight of Frank 
Gildersleeve, the plot in the dentist’s office, the 


MEETING OF CHILD AND PARENTS. 


427 


mock marriage, as slie feared it was, her refusal of 
the proffered cup in Chastini’s house, her desertion 
by Frank, the cries and- groans of other victims, 
the suspicious wagon at the door, her escape, her 
despair at finding no testimony, no witnesses to 
her marriage, her concealment of all her wrongs, 
like the wounded dove that covers with its finest 
feathers the bleeding hurt, striving to hide it from 
view. Then she recalled her despair, her distrust 
of God, her desperate act in taking the fatal poi- 
son, her pain, her excruciating agony, her hun- 
dred deaths in one, shut out from every friend, — 
all this came before her, making her senses like 
the huddled visions of a drowning man, when that 
familiar voice breathing the words, " Minnie ! dear 
Minnie ! ” fell upon her ear. 

Slowly and painfully she opened her eyes. 
Then gazing dreamily upward for a moment, 
what did she see? What form? What face? 
Whose swimming eyes? There, bending over 
her like an angel from heaven, was a form whose 
features were sweeter than the sunlight of day ! 

" Oh ! Minnie ! Minnie ! Do you know me ? ” 

" Ah ! ” said the young girl, starting up. 
"Where am I? Who calls my name? Am I 
awake? Am I dreaming? Ah, heavens! Can 
it be? Can it be? Mother! Mother!” her 
voice rising to a shriek, as the certainty that it 


428 


MINNIE FOUND AT LAST. 


was her mother suddenly burst upon her soul. 
And with sobs and tears and low, broken cries of 
affection, the mother and daughter were clasped 
in each other’s arms. At length Minnie said, — 

"Oh! mother! Have you come? Have you 
indeed found me ? ” 

" My darling one ! My dear, dear child ! Why, 
oh ! why did you ever leave your childhood’s 
home?” And Mrs. Marston in vain tried to 
check her tears. 

" Oh ! would to God I had stayed with you and 
hither, and never come to Boston ! ” murmured 
the sick girl. 

"But why did you not write, Minnie? Think 
of our anxiety, our dreadful, dreadful fears for 
your safety ! ” 

"Oh, forgive me, forgive me, dear mother. 
But I could not write. I could not write. I 
dared not write to you the story of my sorrows ! 
I feared it would break your heart, — that it 
would kill you ! But, oh ! mother, dear, believe 
me, when I say your daughter was not guilty, 
until despair drove her to seek her own life ! ” 

" Oh ! I do believe you, my child.” 

" And you will pardon and forgive me, mother ? ” 

" Oh ! my child, how little you know a mother’s 
heart! Pardon, forgive you! Oh! with all my 
heart ! With all my soul ! And may God forgive 


MEETING OF CHILD AND TAIIENTS. 


429 


you ; may He consider your youth, your despera- 
tion, your absence from friends, your hitherto 
good and blameless life ! ” 

" Oh ! dearest mother, you bring the only 
peace and comfort that my heart has known for 
many, many weeks ! Thank God, I lived to see 
you once more ! To feel your dear arms around 
me ! To lay my weary head upon your bosom ! 
Oh ! mother, if you only knew how much I have 
suffered ; what bitter, bitter tears I have shed ; 
what utter loneliness and despair have been mine ! 
Oh ! then you would know how cruelly I was 
beset ! How irresistibly driven to this wicked and 
reckless deed.” 

"Do not speak of it, my child,” said the sobbing 
mother, tenderly taking Minnie’s head upon her 
breast. " Oh ! how I pity and love you, my own 
dear Minnie ! ” 

For a few moments only the sounds of sobs and 
low uttered words of tenderness and affection 
were heard in the room. Then the door was 
softly opened, and John Marston, leaning on his 
staff, his aged frame shaking with emotion, came 
tottering toward the couch. Without the power 
of words, he bent down, and folded his weeping 
child to his heart. 

" Father ! dear father ! ” said Minnie, when she 
could speak, "this is a greater happiness than I 


430 


MINNIE FOUND AT LAST. 


dared hope for. Oh ! father, can you forgive 
your wicked, sinful daughter?” 

" Yes, yes, my child ; I do forgive you. I have 
sought you for weeks throughout this great city. 
I have passed toilsome days and anxious, sleepless 
nights in my search. It was to save you, to 
rescue and to forgive you, my girl, — more sinned 
against than sinning, — that I devoted myself to 
finding you. God has heard my prayer. The 
lost is found ! Praise, praise forever to His holy 
name ! ” 

" Dear, dear father ! ” 

"But where, where,” John Marston suddenly 
cried, " where is the base man who deceived and 
abandoned you ? Where is this double-dyed vil- 
lain?” 

"Oh, father,” said Minnie, tremulously, "I pray 
you will spare him ! Do not speak harshly of — 
of the man I loved. He is beyond all earthly 
punishment, for,” and the poor girl burst into a 
passion of tears, — " for he is dead ! ” 

" Dead ! ” cried both father and mother. 

"Yes. Since I have lain here on my bed of 
sickness, I have been told that Frank Gildersleeve 
died miserably, wretchedly in an asylum for the 
insane ! And I — I his betrothed, his wife, could 
not be at his side, could not listen to his dying- 
words ! ” 


MEETING OF CHILD AND PARENTS. 431 

" God’s will be done ! ” said the old man, sol- 
emnly, raising his eyes to heaven. "He has 
passed beyond the power of all earthly tribunals. 
May God have mercy on him ! ” 

f 'Oh! Do you forgive him, father?” said 
Minnie, clasping her hands. "Then you will for- 
give your unhappy daughter? Father! father!” 
she cried, with sudden agony, " take me in your 
arms once more ! I am dying, I feel that I am 
dying, dear father ! Kiss me as you used to 
kiss me when a little child ! Press me to your 
heart again ! ” Her voice grew weak and faint. 

"No ! no ! You shall not die ! ” cried the heart- 
broken father. "Minnie! Minnie! look at me!” 
He raised her head upon his breast; her breath 
came feebly, the soft eyelids fell. " Minnie ! 
Minnie ! speak to me ! I am your father ! Mer- 
ciful God ! Have I found my child only to lose 
her ? She must not, shall not die ! Help ! help ! 
help ! ” 

The startled servants Pushed into the room. 
"Run for a doctor, quick! My child is dying!” 

The doctor entered and applied restoratives, 
and quieted their fears. Minnie revived. 

"Ah! It is not a dream! It is you, father,’’ 
she murmured. " I thought I had dreamt you had 
found me ! Thank God, I shall not die among 
strangers ! ” 


432 


MINNIE FOUND AT LAST. 


"Don’t talk of dying, Minnie. It will break 
my heart to have you die. Live, my darling ! 
Live for your mothers sake. Live for your poor 
old father’s sake ! ” 

" Alas ! father, I fear there is no hope ! Alas ! 
it is too late ! ” 

But it was not too late. Minnie Marston was 
snatched from the very jaws of death. Antidotes 
had been promptly administered when she first 
took the poison. 

Then that father and mother fell upon their 
knees, and lifting up their hearts in prayer, 
thanked God that they had found their child alive. 


CHAPTEE XXXVII. 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. — GERTRUDE’S VISIONS. 

"Faix, miss, do ye belave in ghosts?” asked 
Mike the coachman, as Gertrude Gildersleeve, 
returning from a journey, alighted from the car- 
riage at the door of the family’s country residence. 

"No, Michael, I do not. Why do you ask 
me ?,” 

"Faith, all the sarvants are scared to death, 
miss,” said Mike with a solemn shake of his head. 
" They are howling, ' Holy murder ! The house 
is haunted.’” 

"Haunted? Ridiculous ! ” said Gertrude. 

As Gertrude entered the house, she heard the 
servants wildly complaining to her mother. 

"Oh, mum, I want me wages, I want me 
wages ! ” cried Bridget, the new housemaid. 

"Oh ! Holy Virgin, mum, the house is haunted 
— haunted ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Murphy, the cook, 
rolling her eyes in terror. 

" Oh ! marm, such ghosts ! ” ejaculated Ara- 
bella, the parlor-maid. 

28 


434 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


" Silence ! ” cried Mrs. Gildersleeve. " What 
does this mean ? ” 

"Oh, mamma,” exclaimed Gertrude, "Michael 
says the house is haunted.” 

" Och ! mum, an’ so it is, it is ! ” said Bridget. 

" Oh ! mum, I would n’t stay in the house 
another blessed night for a million dollars,” mur- 
mured Mrs. Murphy. 

"No, indeed, not for ten million,” put in Ara- 
bella. 

" Silence !” again cried Mrs. Gildersleeve. "I 
will have no more of this nonsense.” And she 
retired to her room. 

That night Mrs. Gildersleeve and Gertrude lie 
in slumber. The servant girls, wild with affright, 
are crouched in one small room, trembling and 
sobbing among themselves. The night, starless 
and still, shrouds the earth in impenetrable dark- 
ness. Suddenly a shower of gravel strikes the 
shutters of the house, as if thrown by human 
hand. Door-bells ring The windows rattle. 
The wild cries of a strange animal are heard as 
he dashes down the path. The front door mys- 
teriously opens and a gust of wind rushes through 
the house. Footsteps are heard on the stairs. 
Pat, pat, pat, they echo through the halls. 
Nearer, nearer they come. A thundering knock 
on the servants’ door, and a wailing voice mutter- 
ing hollow imprecations. 


Gertrude’s visions. 


435 


" Oh ! Holy Mother ! ” screams Bridget, cross- 
ing herself, and struggling to get behind her two 
companions. 

" Oh ! saints presarve us ! I ’m kilt ! I ’m kilt 
intirely ! ” moans Mrs. Murphy. 

" G — go ’way,” implores Arabella, in a faint 
voice. 

" Oh ! murder ! murder ! ” " Sind for a praist ! 

sind for a praist ! ” ” Oh ! Mr. Ghost ! I ’ll niver 

stale anuther pound of sugar or tay frum missus ; 
niver! niver ! ” are the cries of terror and 
affright from the servants’ room. 

Hark ! a piercing cry of woe and sorrow rings 
through the house. Gertrude, lying in dreamless 
sleep, awakens with a start. A strange fear steals 
over her spirit. She peers into the darkness. 
Creak ! creak ! creak ! goes her chamber door. 
Footfalls approach her bedside ; a shadowy form 
looms up ; an icy hand is slowly stretched forth 
and laid on her fair young forehead. And with a 
remorseful voice ringing in her ears, Gertrude 
starts Up, and wildly shrieking, falls back insensi- 
sible. 

The cry of Gertrude awakens Mrs Gildersleeve. 
She listens. Hark! That pat, pat, pat of un- 
known footsteps approaches her room. The door, 
as if by a gust of wind, is blown violently open. 
A sulphurous odor permeates the apartment. 


436 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


An unaccountable dread seizes her proud soul. 
"Woe ! woe ! woe ! ” wails a voice of sorrow, and 
a dim white figure, waving its hand in solemn 
warning, points downward to hell. 

" Oh ! mamma ! ” cried Gertrude, in the morn- 
ing, "this house I really believe v s* haunted.’’ 

"Nonsense, child!” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, 
with assumed indifference, yet inwardly troubled. 

" But it is,” persisted Gertrude ; " a strange, 
white form entered my room last night, and 
placed its cold, icy hand on my brow. Oh ! I was 
so frightened ! ” 

" Ridiculous,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve. " There 
are no ghosts.” 

In the kitchen, Bridget was saying, — 

" Och ! Bejabers ! I wunt stay anuther day in 
this house, so I wunt.” 

" ’T was the divil himself. I seed his two eyes 
a-flaming, and his cloven fut a-stickin’ out,” put in 
Arabella, shuddering. 

Mrs. Flaherty, the coachman’s wife, entered the 
room. 

" Oh ! The Virgin save us ! ” cried she, cross- 
ing herself, and sinking down in a chair. "I’m 
nigh a-frightened out of my siven sinses, I am.” 

"And we is, marm, likewise,” said Bridget. 
" Oh ! such sights, such carryings-on ! Enough 


Gertrude’s visions. 


437 


to scare the Holy Mother herself, God bless 
her ! ” 

"Sure, it’s jist es I towld ye. Faix, it’s the 
spirits of Mr. Gildersleeve and poor Mr. Frank, 
so it is. Sure it ’s in Purgatory they are ! ” 
gasped Mrs. Flaherty. "It’s in torments they 
be, ’cause no masses were said for their wicked 
sowls.” 

"Faith, mum, ye’re right, ye are,” cried Mrs. 
Murphy, holding up her hands in horror. " Sure 
it ’s in Purgatory they is ; an’ the owld lady wunt 
let thim git out. A hundred masses wud do a 
power of good, they wud that.” 

" Pshaw ! ” scoffed Arabella. " Masses ain’t no 
good.” 

" Howld ye tongue, ye heretic ye ! ” crie<7 
Bridget, sharply. 

" Oh ! faix the owld lady is too mean, too 
mighty stingy to say masses for their jioor, lost 
sowls, that she is,” said Mrs. Murphy, shaking her 
head wisely. 

" Mean ! ” echoed Bridget. " Faith, she ’d see 
us all eat up alive afore she ’d pay for howly 
masses.” 

" Oh ! if Father Titus was only here ! ” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Murphy. * " He ’d tell us what ’s the 
matter, he would.” 

"Faith, mum, an’ he will be,” said Mrs. Fla- 


438 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


herty. " He toiild me he were a-comin’ to see me 
to-day ; and sure there he is right at my door.” 
And Mrs. Flaherty flew out to meet Father Titus 
it the coachman’s house in the yard. 

"Lord bless ye, Father Titus,” cried Mrs. 
Flaherty. " It’s jes the right time ye have come, 
it is. Miss Gertrude hes jes gut home, an’ is 
a’most frightened to death with the ghosts, she is. 
She wants to see ye, oh ! iver so much, an’ I ’ll go 
right off an’ fetch her, an’ I wunt tell her mother, 
so I wunt.” 

Gertrude enters, burdened and pale. " OM 
Holy Father ! ” she cries. " It is not for myself 1 
plead. My dear father’s spirit is in torment. I 
am sure his spirit appeared to me last night. He 
laid his icy hand upon my brow and said, ' Child ! 
child ! oh ! will you not relieve my soul from 
Purgatory?’ With that he vanished. My mother 
does not believe in such things. She is opposed 
to our Holy Catholic Church ; opposed to my 
seeing you or attending the church. She thinks 
I am infatuated. Ah ! poor mother ! How little 
she knows ! But oh, Father, if you ever had pity 
on a poor, stricken child, a child worse than an 
orphan, oh ! intercede for me.” 

" My child ! Put your trust in the Blessed 
Virgin. She will protect and care for you. You 
may yet be one of her favored children, a virgin 
nun, a saint of God.” 


geetrude's visions. 


439 


"I will! I will!” cried Gertrude, fervidly. 
" Oh ! I feel I am weak and sinful. Alas ! I joined 
with my mother to send poor Frank to the insane 
retreat, and feel as if I were partly the cause of 
his sad death. Oh ! Holy Father ! Pray for me ! 
Pray for me ! Oh ! pray for the spirits of my 
father and brother, that they may be relieved 
from torment.” 

At this moment Mrs. Flaherty came rushing in. 
"Oh! Blessed Father!” she cried in terror. 
" Mrs Gildersleeve is a-comin’ ! ” 

Father Titus looked embarrassed. But there 
was no time for him to conceal himself. 

"How dare you mislead my daughter?” thun- 
dered Mrs. Gildersleeve, confronting the aston- 
ished priest. " How dare you meet her here 
unknown to me? I know your secret motives, 
your selfish plans. I more than suspect that you 
are at the bottom of the disturbance at my house 
last night. It is part of your schemes. But they 
shall be foiled. The deep wiles of Catholicism 
shall never ensnare my daughter, sir. Soon my 
child will be worth a million. That million you 
seek. But you shall never have a dollar of it ! 
You demand high mass for my husband at $100. 
When that sum is paid, his soul, through your 
machinations, will be crying for another $100. 
i No, sir, I am a Transcendentalist. I believe in 


440 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


neither Virgin, priest, nor Purgatory. Begone, let 
your face never, never darken these doors again ! ” 

For once Father Titus was disconcerted. He 
could say nothing. 

" Oh ! mamma ! mamma ! you kill me ! you kill 
me ! ” sobbed Gertrude, and she fell fainting to 
the floor. 

w Too bad ! ” said Sambo to himself, walking up 
and down the hall as Gertrude was brought in 
senseless from the coachman’s house, and carried 
tenderly to her room. " It ’s jes too bad dat dis 
ycr Jeswit priest should come it so ober poor Miss 
Gertrude. Pizenin’ her mind wid such stuff an’ 
nonsense ! Talk ’bout de Virgin Mary ! Jes as 
if she could hear all de eighty t’ousand prayers 
all ober de world ! Why, she wa’ n’t only de erfiij 
mudder ob de bressed Lord Jesus. Humph! 
Guess some ob dem prayers have ter come way 
up froo de erf, t’ousand an* t’ousand ob miles 
’fore dey reach her ear. An’ to t’ink Miss Ger- 
trude, an edicated young leddy like her, can 
beliebe such humbug ! ” 

Sambo increased his pace, taking long strides, 
and swinging, his arms excitedly. 

" Oh ! poor, poor Miss Gertrude ! ” Sambo con- 
tinued. " I jes wish I could do somefin’ or udder 
for de sweet young missy. Declar’ ef it don’t jes 
break my ole heart to see such goin’s-on. Suah 


Gertrude’s visions. 


441 


as de world Fader Titus is jes arter de money — 
in coorse lie is, de wicked, artful priest ! Guess 
I knows him, yis sah ! I knows he cause all de 
ghost, de noise an’ all de trubble. Ef missus ud 
jes frow out dat ar coachman’s wife, dat ar Mrs. 
Flaherty, I reck’n dis yer ghost business wud be 
stopped, mighty quick ! Let dem come an’ see ef 
dar be any ghosts a-comin’ to my room. No, dey 
das n’t ! I ’d fro dem out de window, 1 wud, so 
dey ud tink de wicked one hisself was arter dem. 
Oh ! poor Miss Gertrude ! Dey is treatin’ you 
shameful, dey is. Dis yere ghost an’ de howlin’ 
an’ de futsteps is all a sham, it is. It’s too berry, 
berry bad, it is. An I ’ll jes go an tell missus 
w’at I t’inks ob it, I will.” And the aroused Sambo 
approached the door of Mrs. Gildersleeve’s room. 

" Oh ! mamma ! The vision ! I see a cross ! 
I see a white veil, now a black veil ! What does 
it mean, mamma?” Gertrude, lying pale and 
weak on the sofa, was crying as Sambo entered 
the room. " Oh ! look ! The Virgin stretches 
out her arms to receive me. Hark ! I hear 
sounds of celestial music. The heavens open ! 
I see the pearly gates ! Oh, joy ! joy ! mamma ! 
But, ah ! The vision changes. Angels point 
downward to a dark and terrible abyss. I see 
forms writhing in awful misery ! Oh ! I see my 
brothers and my dear, dear father. They beckon 


442 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


to me, beg and pray me to release their stricken 
spirits, to renounce the world and give my soul 
to God ! Oh, mamma ! I will ! I will ! ” 

" Hush ! child ! you are dreaming,” said Mrs. 
Gildersleeve, laying her hand on the fevered 
brow of her daughter. 

" No, mamma, it’s real! There! The Holy 
Virgin beckons, beckons ! Angels hover round 
me. Hark! mamma! Oh! mamma! Papa, 
papa is calling for release from torment. Oh ! 
mea culpa! mea culpa! mea maxima culpa! 
The holy priest has left me ! Oh, mamma ! He 
can save us, save poor papa ! Oh ! call him 
back ! call him back ! ” And Gertrude upstarting, 
fell back on the bed insensible. 

" Gertrude ! Gertrude ! ” cried Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve, bending tenderly over her daughter. 
" Speak to me ! speak to me ! ” 

Gertrude slowly opened her eyes. " The priest ! 
the priest ! ” she murmured. 

"Father Titus! I cannot let him enter this 
house again,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, sternly. 

”01i, mamma! do not say so,” sobbed Ger- 
trude. "Oh! send for him! send for him, and 
ask his forgiveness.” 

"No, I cannot!” said Mrs. Gildersleeve. 

"Oh, mamma! do not be cruel!” pleaded 
Gertrude, the tears glistening in her fair blue 


Gertrude’s visions. 


443 


eyes. "Do not kill me, mamma ; do not kill 
me ! ” 

"Listen, Gertrude,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, 
determinedly. "This priest has selfish designs. 
His motives are evil. I cannot consent to his 
presence here.” 

"Oh, no, mamma!” cried Gertrude. "He is 
not wicked. He is good, he is good ; I know he 
is ! Oh ! send for him ! Send for him ! ” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve sternly shook her head. 

"Oh, mamma! mamma!” implored Gertrude, 
stretching out her hands pleadingly. "Do not 
refuse me ! Oh ! do not refuse your only child ! ” 
And Gertrude, grasping weakly at her mother’s 
hand, again fainted. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve’s proud spirit began to yield. 
The sight of Gertrude’s anguish touched her heart. 
She could withstand her daughter’s entreaties no 
longer. 

" Gertrude ! Gertrude ! ” she cried. But Ger- 
trude answered never a word. 

", Oh, woe ! woe is me ! ” sighed Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve. " My only child has turned against me. 
She will not speak to me. Oh, Gertrude ! Ger- 
trude ! ” and the proud mother sank in a chair, and 
buried her face in her hands, sobbing convulsively. 

Suddenly Mrs. Gildersleeve arose and stepped 
to the door. She directed that Father Titus be 


444 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 


sent to her. Soon his portly figure entered the 
hallway, and he approached the room where 
Gertrude lay. 

"Sir,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, saluting him 
coldly, " my daughter is infatuated with you and 
your church. She lies sick and troubled, perhaps 
nigh unto death. Therefore, I allow her wish to 
see you. For myself, I disapprove of the religion 
you teach.” And Mrs. Gildersleeve swept from 
the room, leaving the father alone with Gertrude. 

" My daughter ! ” said the priest in a low voice, 
approaching her bedside, " how is it with thee ?” 

"Oh, Father Titus! have you come?” cried 
Gertrude, making an effort to rise, a pleased look 
on her face. " Oh ! I am so glad ! Oh ! forgive 
poor mother ! she knew not what she did.” 

" Gertrude,” said the priest in solemn tones, 
"all, all depends on you. You can save your 
mother, redeem the spirits of your father and 
brothers from out the fearful depths of Purgatory. 
You and you alone can do this. You are the 
Virgin’s choice. Listen to the voice of your 
heart. Obey its promptings. Renounce the 
world ; accept the divine grace which the church 
extends to you. Assume those vows which shall 
clothe you as with new life. Then your prayers 
will have weight with heaven. Then shall you 
be the savior of the souls of your kindred, your 


Gertrude’s visions. 


445 


name placed high on the roll of the true 
daughters of the church, canonized perchance as 
a saint in heaven.’* 

" Oh ! Holy Father ! ” murmured Gertrude in 
rapture. 

" Take the veil ; consecrate your life to the 
church. Enter upon the blissful ways of the 
cloister, and all will be well,” said the priest in 
fervid tones. " But,” and lie frowned sternly, " if 
you reject the Virgin, denounce the church — oh ! 
woe ! woe ! woe ! to your unhappy soul ! ” and 
Father Titus, apparently overcome at the thought, 
shook with affected grief and pity. 

" Oh ! Father! Father!” implored Gertrude, 
trembling at such a fate. " Renounce the church ? 
Never!” 

"No, my child, I have faith in you. You are 
pure, lovely, good. You will do as the Lord 
wills.” 

"I will ! I will !” cried Gertrude, fervently. 

"It is well. The Virgin smiles upon you. 
The heavens open and record your vow. Oh ! 
my daughter ! You shall shine as a jewel on the 
brow of your Redeemer, and shall go no more out 
forever.” 

He bent down, touched his lips to the pure 
forehead of the young girl, and blessing her, took 
his departure, promising to return and see her the 
next day. 


CHAPTEK XXXVIII. 


JERKS TO THE RESCUE. — THE PROUD MOTHER 
HUMBLED. 

Mrs. Gildersleeve was seated alone in her 
sitting-room, a prey to bitter thoughts. 

" Plase, ma’am,” said the servant, entering, " a 
man wants to spake wid yez. His name, he sez, 
is Jerks.” 

"Conduct him here,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, 
quickly, animated by a sudden premonition that 
Jerks's visit had some portentous signification; 
and the next moment Jonathan entered the room. 

"How du you du, ma’am?” said Jonathan, as 
he seated himself. " I should n’t intrude on you 
at such a distressing time, but I have a very 
important communication to make to you.” 

"It is no intrusion, Mr. Jerks,” said the lady, 
kindly, and with a faint smile. "I remembered 
your name at once. You accompanied my family 
on our European trip last year, I believe. You 
— you took a very kind interest in my daughter, 
if I mistake not, during the voyage over ? ” 

"Wal, yes, Mrs. Gildersleeve,” said Jerks, 


THE PROUD MOTHER HUMBLED. 


447 


nervously fingering the rim of his hat, his manner 
indicating some unusual indecision. "I did and 
do take considerable interest in Miss Gertrude, 
if you will pardon me for say in’ so ; particularly 
now that — ” 

And here Jerks hesitated, and became so embar- 
rassed that Mrs. Gildersleeve came to his rescue. 

"You refer to the — the calamities which have 
overtaken my family of late, do you not? ” 

She tried to speak the words steadily, but she 
was unable to control a certain huskiness of voice ; 
and in spite of the long habit of concealing her 
emotions, she could not prevent the muscles of 
her face from twitching convulsively. 

"Yes, ma’am,” said Jerks, observing these 
tokens, and pitying the proud but stricken woman 
from the bottom of his heart, "I was thinkin’ of 
all your troubles, but I didn’t mean to speak of 
’em quite so bluntly. I forgot, for the moment, 
that I was comparatively a stranger to you.” 

"And yet,” said Mrs. Gildersleeve, gently, "I 
cannot look upon you entirely as such, Mr. Jerks. 
My husband was accustomed to speak of you in 
very high terms. I shall never forget that he 
told me how you earnestly cautioned him about 
my unfortunate son. I confess that at the time I 
looked upon your kindness in a very different 
li^rht from what I have done since. Oh!” — ;she 


448 


JERKS TO THE RESCUE. 


continued with an involuntary burst of emotion 
that was beyond all powers of control, — "oh ! if 
we had but listened to your well-meant advice ! 
Oh ! if we had but heeded and read aright those 
signs which were meant to warn us that our only 
boy was drifting out into a dangerous sea whose 
shores are forever strewn with youthful wreck and 
disaster ! Oh ! if our eyes had only been opened 
to this awful peril, he might have been saved ! 
He might have been an honorable, an upright and 
worthy man, the staff and support of my declining 
years. Instead of which, behold me a broken- 
hearted woman, aged before my time, bereft in 
one year, in one short year, of husband and chil- 
dren, — hopeless, miserable, wretched, oh ! so 
utterly, so utterly wretched ! ” 

Ah ! it was pitiful to see this woman, once so 
cold, so proud, so thoroughly self-contained, in 
whose bosom the voice of nature had been stifled 
for so long that she seemed to be devoid of every 
softening and humanizing feeling. Ah ! it was 
pitiful to see her thus, in an unguarded moment, 
abandon herself to the wild excesses of a orief 

O 

and sorrow in which dwelt no gleam of hope, no 
spark of comfort ! 

Jonathan’s heart bled for the stricken woman. 
He tried to offer her some consolation. 

"At least, Mrs. Gildersleeve,” he said, "you 


THE PROUD MOTHER HUMBLED. 


449 


have still a daughter, upon whose love and devo- 
tion I am sure you may rely.” 

These words, instead of assuaging, seemed 
only to increase her anguish. She wrung her 
hands wildly as she cried, — 

" No ! not even that drop of comfort is left me ! 
My daughter — my Gertrude, the one object on 
earth upon whom I have lavished the affection of 
my whole heart — my pride, my glory, my idol 
— yes, whom I have worshipped blindly as the 
heathen worships his god, — my Gertrude turns 
against me, forsakes me ; cuts asunder the dear- 
est tie that might yet reconcile me to my lonely 
lot! Yes, my daughter shrinks from me — me, 
her mother — to embrace a delusion, a religion 
which assumes to supply the place of all worldly 
interests and every natural tie of affection.” 

" What ! ” exclaimed Jerks, in sorrowful sur- 
prise. " Has Miss Gertrude gone so far as actu- 
ally to have taken the veil?” 

"You have heard, then, of her intention? No. 
She has not yet consummated her mistaken pur- 
pose, but she has gone so far that retreat is now 
impossible ; and I, — oh ! heavenly Father ! — I, 
I, her mother, was powerless to prevent the 
step ! ” 

"Take hope, then, ma’am!” cried Jonathan, in 
electric tones, and springing to his feet, while 
29 


450 


JERKS TO THE RESCUE. 


Mrs. Gildersleeve’s saddened countenance light- 
ened up and she leaned forward with a look of 
breathless expectation. " I came here to reveal 
to you a matter that I hope and believe will save 
your daughter; emancipate her from a slavery 
both of soul and body, that her pure nature 
would shrink from as from the deadliest conta- 
gion, if she but knew the half of wffiat it requires 
and exacts.” 

And in hurried words Jerks related to Mrs. 
Gildersleeve the story of Rose Delaney which he 
had heard from her husband’s lips ; showed her 
that this same priest, wdiose casuistry, zeal, and 
pertinacity had so wrought upon the wavering 
and disturbed religious convictions of Gertrude, 
that she had at length not only adopted the Roman 
Catholic religion as her own, but had come to 
regard Father Titus as a veritable saint upon 
earth, good, pure, holy as the apostles themselves. \ 
Jonathan thus exhibited the priest in all his moral 
hideousness and deformity. As he concluded, 
Mrs. Gildersleeve, trembling at the danger to i 
which her daughter had been subjected, yet 
relieved as she thought of Gertrude’s innate ; 
purity and delicacy which she felt were sufficient 
to guard her from that danger, hastily rose to her 
feet and came toward Jerks. 

" Where is this girl Rose ? ” she asked. 


THE PROUD MOTHER HUMBLED. 


451 


” Will j^ou see her? ” asked Jerks. w Will you 
listen to the story from her own lips? Will you, 
further than this, permit this repentant woman to 
see your daughter, and perhaps move her to 
renounce her intention of entering a convent?” 

Once towering like the mountain oak, now 
bending like the willow, Mrs. Gildersleeve seemed 
as if she were about to prostrate herself at Jona- 
than’s feet, humbling herself as she had never 
done before, even to her Maker; but instead of 
yielding to the impulse, she seized both his hands, 
while the tears streamed from eyes that had rarely 
known such tender suffusion, as she murmured 
brokenly, — 

" Oh ! You have given me new hope, new life ! 
May God forever bless you for bringing this com- 
fort to a broken, despairing heart ! Thanks to 
you, my daughter, my idolized Gertrude is saved ! 
I feel it, know it ! But where is this girl Rose? 
Oh ! bring her to me at once. In mercy’s name, 
let there not be another moment’s delay ! ” 

And almost frantic with mingled joy and fear, 
Mrs. Gildersleeve sprang to her feet, and urged 
Jonathan toward the door. But the latter had 
not yet accomplished his entire object. 

"I have not yet told you all, Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve,” he said, pausing at the door. 

She looked inquiringly at him. 


452 


JERKS TO THE RESCUE. 


" Bose Delaney is not far away, and ready to 
second our efforts wheneyer she is summoned to 
do so,” Jerks continued. " Let your mind be at 
rest on that point, Mrs. Gildersleeve.” 

"But why delay, then, to bring her here?” 

? demanded the lady, anxiously. " Oh ! hasten at 
once, deal' Mr. Jerks. Every moment is precious. 
Even now this priest may call and demand to see 
my daughter. Oh l remember she is all that is 
left to me on earth ! ” 

" Not so, Mrs. Gildersleeve. She is not the 
only one that claims your affection and duty,” 
said Jerks. 

" What do you mean? ” 

" I mean that there is one, cruelly, foully 
’wronged, yet pure and innocent as an angel, who 
has asked me to intercede with you in her behalf. 
One who once came to you, expecting womanly 
sympathy and womanly aid, but whom you, in 
your day of pride, drove from your door with 
insult and reproach. One Avho now, in your day 
of sorrow, yearns to love and bless you and yield 
you the duty of a true and faithful child ! ” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve looked upon him like one 
mystified, yet a gliffipse of the truth slowly dawned 
on her mind, as she said, — 

" Speak plainly. I know not to what you refer.” 

"I refer to your dead son’s wife!” said Jerks, 
slowly. 


THE PROUD MOTHER HUMBLED. 


453 


" My son’s — Frank’s — wife ? ” she repeated. 
" He had no wife.- Frank Gildersleeve was never 
married ! ” 

" Mrs. Gildersleeve,” said Jerks, solemnly, 
" Minnie Marston was as truly and legally your 
soil's wife, and is as truly and legally your son’s 
widow, as that I am standing here at this moment.” 

" Oh, may heaven forgive me, then, for the wrong 
I unconsciously have done her,” said Mrs. Gilder- 
sleeve. "Oh! believe me, sir, my conscience 
lias sorely tortured me for my harshness to that 
poor girl. Her sweet face has been in my mmd 
oftener than I could tell. But I thought I was 
doinv right when I treated her so. I believed she 
was an impostor, seeking to trade on some hold 
which she had obtained over my reckless son. 
But are you sure of what you say, Mr. Jerks?” 

" I have seen the certificate of her marriage to 
your son properly recorded,” said Jerks. "It was 
providentially recovered and sent to her by a 
friend of your son’s, Dr. Richard Forceps, to 
whom, I am afraid, Frank Gildersleeve owed 
more of his evil ways than will ever be known. I 
know not his motive. Perhaps even in his evil 
heart may exist some touch *§f humanity, and in 
some penitent mood he perhaps was moved to do 
this act of justice.” 

For a few moments Mrs. Gildersleeve did not 


454 


JERKS TO THE RESCUE. 


speak. What was passing in that heart, still 
perhaps not wholly devoid of the worldly pride 
which had caused so much misery to herself and 
to others, may never be known. Evidently she 
was undergoing some severe mental combat. At 
last she said, gently, — 

"I would like to see my daughter , Mr. Jerks, 
— my poor son’s wife. I would like to fall on 
my knees and beg her to forgive me, to forgive 
him, and suffer me to take her to my heart ! ” 

"And let us hope, Mrs. Gildersleeve,” said 
Jerks, kindly, "that God, who has stricken you, 
may now bless you with a new affection, another 
daughter to love and honor you.” 

And so saying, Jonathan left the house. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


GERTRUDE’S INFATUATION. — A CONVENT OR THE 
TOMB. 

Gertrude Gildersleeve lying upon her couch, 
her eyes closed, her hands clasped upon her bosom, 
a smile of angelic peace and tranquillity on her 
youthful countenance, — such was the scene that 
was presented to Mrs. Gildersleeve as she hastily 
entered her daughter’s apartment. 

Her eagerness received a sudden check as she 
beheld Gertrude. The rigidity of the young 
girl’s limbs, the waxen pallor of her face, the 
folded hands, the closed eyelids, altogether looked 
so fearfully suggestive of death, that the fright- 
ened mother paused for an instant, and then 
involuntarily uttered a startled cry as she flew 
to the bedside. 

" Gertrude ! Gertrude ! ” she exclaimed, shak- 
ing her daughter’s arm, in great agitation. 

Gertrude opened her eyes, but seeing her 
mother bending so anxiously over her, extended 
her arms and gently wound them about the latter’s 
neck. 


Gertrude’s infatuation. 


45 6 

" What is it, dear mamma ?” she asked. " Why 
did you cry out in that manner? ” 

"Oh ! You frightened me almost to death, my 
child. I thought — I thought something ailed 
you.” 

" Oh, on the contrary, mamma, I never was so 
well and so happy in my life.” 

And Gertrude, as if to convince her parent 
how strong she felt, slowly arose from the couch. 
She was more feeble than she was willing to 
admit. The scenes she had so recently passed 
through had greatly told upon her delicate frame. 
But this she did not wish her mother to perceive. 

"You gave me such a shock, Gertrude,” said 
Mrs. Gildersleeve. " But I am strangely un- 
nerved to-day. The least thing completely upsets 
me. I think we both need a change of scene. 
This house, the surroundings and associations, are 
too full of painful reminiscences. What do you 
say, my child, to spending a few weeks at Sara- 
toga or Newport ? ” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve watched her daughter nar- 
rowly while she said this. 

Gertrude did not reply at once. She was 
reflecting how she could decline her mother’s 
suggestion and explain the reason of her declina- 
tion, without giving her too much pain. At 
length she said, again winding her arms around 


A CONVENT OR T.iE I OMR. 


457 


Mrs. Gildersleeve’s neck and nestling closely to 
her, — 

" Gear mamma, it grieves me to disobey you in 
anything; it wrings my heart to have a wish that 
is opposed to any wish of yours. I have always 
tried to be a dutiful and affectionate daughter, 
have I not ? ” 

"Certainly you have, my dearest. But what 
does this dreadful prelude portend?” asked Mrs. 
(tildersleeve, well prepared, however, for what was 
coming, and ready with what she believed would 
prove a cure for her daughter’s infatuation when 
the time should arrive for her to apply it. 

"Oh ! ” said Gertrude, "I am so sorry, so very, 
very sorry to give you pain, dear mamma, but I 
fear I must do so. I — I am going to leave you, 
mamma ! ” 

"Leave me, Gertrude?” exclaimed Mrs. Gil- 
dersleeve. "Leave your mother, who without 
you will have no soul to cling to, no one on earth 
to love and cherish?” 

The pathos of these words went straight to the 
young girl’s heart, but they had no effect on her 
settled purpose. Father Titus had fortified her 
resolution to such a degree, that she believed that 
nothing short of death would have power to make 
that resolution waver. 

"Oh, dear mamma,” Gertrude tearfully an- 


458 


Gertrude’s infatuation. 


swered, " do you think the parting will not be 
bitter to me? You are all that I, too, have left to 
love ! But I have consecrated myself to a higher 
duty than even that I owe to you, my mother. I 
have given my heart, my life, my all to the service 
of One who will approve my sacrifice, and teach 
me how infinitely sweeter are the joys and bless- 
ings of a life devoted to Him, than the uncertain- 
ties of earthly hopes and the ties of earthly affec- 
tions can ever be ! ” 

"You mean, Gertrude, that you have yielded 
to the solicitations of Father Titus? That you 
have consented to leave your home, your mother, 
and enter a convent ? ” 

Gertrude bowed her head. 

"I blame myself, Gertrude,” Mrs. Gildersleeve 
continued, "I deeply blame myself for ever having 
permitted you to enter a Roman Catholic school, 
and that I have allowed this priest to visit my 
house. But regrets are now unavailing. The 
past cannot be recalled. What remains for me to 
do is to perform my duty, to exert my authority. 
Do you think I will weakly yield to this infatua- 
tion? That I will permit my only child, my 
dearest, my best beloved, all that God has left 
me, to be torn from my side, to be shut up in a 
cloister, and make no protest, no effort to prevent 
it? Oh! you mistake your mother, Gertrude 
Gildersleeve, if you think so for one moment ! ” 


A CONVENT OR THE TOMB. 


459 


" Oh, mamma, do not compel me to be diso- 
bedient ! ” Gertrude pleaded. " If I had a doubt, 
if I could believe that it was possible for me to be 
mistaken in my choice, I would not, for worlds, 
persist in it. I know I am yielding by nature ; I 
have never before combated your will ; you justly 
believe that it will only be necessary for you to 
command in this as in other matters, and that I 
will obey. But oh ! dearest mamma, it is not now 
a question of filial regard or duty. It is a question 
between earth and heaven ! A question affecting 
my heavenly salvation, and yours, and my dear 
father’s and brothers’ ! Oh ! mamma ! I am con- 
vinced that I am called to perform this sacrifice 
by a voice which I would not, could not, dare not 
disobey ! ” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve made a gesture of impatience, 
almost of despair. 

"Oh!” she cried, "who would credit it if it 
were told, that my daughter could so weakly, so 
foolishly be duped by such false and ridiculous 
notions as these! It is too absurd! — past all 
belief! How can any one in their right senses, 
brought up in this age of enlightenment, pin their 
faith upon a superstition so rank, so gross, 
so debasing, so utterly opposed to the plainest 
teachings of common-sense ! Oh ! this priest, this 
wicked, wicked priest ! Stealing into my house 


460 


Gertrude’s infatuation. 


like a thief in the night, to rob me of the most 
precious of all my treasures ! But he shall not 
triumph!” she cried energetically, and starting 
up with the grandeur of an avenging Judith or an 
outraged Leah. " No ! I will fight craft with 
craft ! Oppose cunning to cunning, force to 
force ! And, if all else fail, as a last resort I will 
appeal to the law ! ” 

" Mamma,” said Gertrude, gently but firmly, 
" no threats will terrify me from following out 
the dictates of my conscience. All you have 
said, though it grieves me sorely, will not avail to 
move me.” 

" But it shall avail ! ” cried the excited mother, 
"You are but a child, not yet of age, and the law 
will protect me in enforcing your obedience.” 

"Very well, mamma,” said Gertrude, still firm, 
though very pale. "You can at the most only 
delay, but not prevent my purpose. My religion 
teaches patience. I shall soon be of age ! ” 

" Oh ! ” cried Mrs. Gildersleeve, almost driven 
wild by this calm, immovable opposition on the 
part of her usually docile child, impotently wring- 
ing her hands as she paced distractedly to and 
fro. " Oh ! can it be that this bold, bad man has 
gained such an ascendancy over my child ! ” 

" Please, dear mamma,” said Gertrude, greatly 
shocked, and flushing painfully, — " please do not 


A CONVENT OK THE TOMB. 


461 


speuk so unkindly of the good, the holy, the 
noble man whom I honor and revere above all 
mankind.” 

"Silly child ! You little know this priest.” 
Gertrude smiled, confidently, trustfully. 

" Mamma,” she said, " my faith in God, in the 
Blessed Virgin, in the holy Church, is not firmer 
than is my faith and trust in the good Father Titus ! ” 
"But if I could prove to you, Gertrude, that 
this same man was one of the vilest, most despi- 
cable of God’s creatures, a shame and a scandal 
to God’s ministry, a hypocrite, a liar, a base 
schemer, an unscrupulous wretch, who, if he had 
his just deserts, would be held up to the scorn and 
execration of society, and only suffered to exist 
behind the stone walls and iron bars of a prison, 
what then would you say ? ” 

Gertrude had slowly arisen at these words, 
poured out with all the vehement force of one 
thoroughly convinced of the truth of what she 
asseverated. The young girl was as pallid as 
marble, her limbs trembled, a chill like that of 
death darted through her veins, her soft eyes 
sought her mother’s with a glance frozen as if 
with horror, and she raised one hand with an 
imploring gesture. She made one or two inef- 
fectual efForts to speak. At last the words came, 
low and feeble, and with a shuddering gasp, — 


Gertrude’s infatuation. 


4G2 

"It would — it would kill me, mother, to 
believe what you say ! ” 

"Rather,” cried Mrs. Gildersleeve, overjoyed 
at this unexpected effect, and seeing in it only an 
indication of hope, — "rather it would give you 
life, my child, disabuse your mind of a gross and 
fatal error, and restore you once more to my deso- 
late heart, my loving arms ! Remain here, Ger- 
trude. I will return in a moment.” 

Mrs. Gildersleeve, without a word in explana- 
tion, hastened from the room. Gertrude never 
stirred from the spot where she stood, but with 
eyes fixed with a dread expectation on the door 
through which her mother had passed, motionless, 
silently awaited her return. The minutes flew 
by, but still Gertrude never moved, as if the bare 
suggestion of her mothers words had struck her 
to stone. Save for that terrible look of mute 
anticipation, and the repressed heaving of her 
bosom, she might indeed have been taken for a 
marble statue. 

At length the door again opened, and Mrs. 
Gildersleeve, accompanied by a woman, closely 
veiled, entered the room. 

"My dear Gertrude,” she said, tenderly, "I 
would willingly spare you a rude shock, if I knew 
any better or surer method of arousing you from 
your delusion. This young woman, a convert 


A CONVENT OR THE TOMB. 


463 


like yourself to the Church of Rome, has come 
here out of the kindest and friendliest motives. 
You have never seen her before, hut she has 
heard much of you, and is most anxious to do 
you a service for which I am sure you will live to 
thank and bless her.” 

She motioned to the new-comer, who at once 
drew nearer and removed her veil, disclosing the 
pretty, but now deeply saddened countenance of 
Rose Delaney. 

Gertrude gazed at Rose with a look of pained 
apprehension ; then, as a sudden suspicion flashed 
upon her mind, she turned to her mother, quickly, 
and said, — 

"Mamma, who is this woman ? Surely, you 
would not stoop to a cruel deceit — ” 

But Mrs. Gildersleeve intuitively comprehended 
what Gertrude meant, and answered before she 
could finish the sentence. 

"No, my child. I am convinced of Mrs. 
Delaney’s truth, and when I tell you that your 
old friend, Mr. Jerks, will also vouch for it, 
I think you will no longer injure me by an unjust 
suspicion. Mrs. Delaney’s story is a very sorrow- 
ful and a very painful one. But I beg that you will 
patiently listen to what she has come so far to 
relate to you.” 

Gertrude made a step forward, and laid her 
hand beseechingly upon her mother’s arm. 


464 


GERTRUDE’S INFATUATION . 


"Dear mamma,” she faltered, with a look of 
piteous entreaty, " do not subject me to this trial. 
Please send this woman away. I do not doubt 
that she means me well. But I have no desire to 
listen to any story. It would make no difference 
what she said. I — I am not feeling very well, 
dear mamma.” 

"But, Gertrude — ” 

"Nay, then,” cried the young girl, roused to 
sudden frenzy by her secret apprehensions, "I 
will not listen to her ! Go away ! Go away this 
instant ! ” she added, almost fiercely turning upon 
the shrinking Rose. But the next instant, sur- 
prised and ashamed at herself for an exhibition of 
passion so utterly foreign to her gentle manner, 
she threw herself into her mother’s arms and burst 
into tears. 

At the sight of Gertrude’s distress both Mrs. 
Gildersleeve and Rose Delaney were stricken with 
feelings of remorse. 

"Had we not better defer this unpleasant matter 
for another occasion, madam?” said Rose. 

But Mrs. Gildersleeve shook her head decidedly . 

"My daughter will be calmer in a moment,” 
she said. " Come, Gertrude, my dear child, com- 
pose yourself. Sit down here beside me ” — and 
she led her to a lounge — "and listen to Mrs. 
Delaney. I promise you that you cannot fail to be 
deeply interested in what she has to say.” 


A CONVENT OR THE TOMB. 


465 


Gertrude’s mood had changed. Until Father 
Titus began to plant the seed of his pernicious 
influence in her heart, she had been docile and 
obedient to the slightest wish or desire expressed 
by her mother. Now, once more, she yielded to 
her mothers commands, and faintly signed for 
Rose Delaney to proceed with her tale. 

There is no need to rehearse that sad and sinful 
experience. The reader is already familiar with 
the true character of Father Titus. The delicate 
mind of Gertrude was shocked by the recital, and 
at first she could only utter broken ejaculations of 
horror and disbelief. Father Titus such a mon- 
ster as this woman depicted? No! She would 
not, could not entertain the thought ! It was all a 
piece of deception, a conspiracy, hatched up to 
throw discredit on a good and holy man ; a 
wicked, cruel conspiracy, devised as a means to 
make her revolt from a religion that could harbor 
and exalt to one of its highest offices, one so 
wicked, so shameless, so utterly vile and worthless ! 

But as Rose went on, as she unveiled and 
exposed circumstantially the nameless details of 
her connection with the priest, investing her 
recital with an unmistakable air of truth, Ger- 
trude slowly, — and oh ! with such unutterable 
grief and despair ! — was forced to realize that he 
whom her imagination had raised to a plane with 
30 


466 


Gertrude’s infatuation. 


the holiest of the holy, with the noblest and wor- 
thiest that had lived on earth, who had made good 
deeds, pure life, and unquestioning faith stepping- 
stones to the most exalted places on high, was 
but an image of clay, — one of the lowest, the 
vilest of earthly beings ! 

Slowly, reluctantly, resisting to the last, did 
this conviction force itself upon her, and then 
with a wail, that was prolonged into a startling 
shriek, she sprang up and then as suddenly sunk 
upon her mother’s breast, completely senseless. 

Days and weeks went by, but Gertrude Gilder- 
sleeve, despite the constant attendance of skilled 
physicians, never awoke to sense and reason. 
She lingered for a while, but with the withering 
of the summer roses her pure and gentle soul 
took its flight, leaving her mother heart broken 
and desolate, — now alas ! indeed childless. 

But not destined to be childless for long ! 
The mysterious providence of God, which per- 
chance as a just punishment had deprived her of 
every member of a once promising family, had at 
last raised her up from the dark pit of despair, 
given to her hungering heart a new affection, 
assuaged her sorrow by the love of one whom she 
had once cast off*, but now thankfully, gratefully 
received into her arms and her home, — the 
wronged but forgiving wife of her son Frank, — 
Minnie Marston. And thus we leave them. 


CHAPTER XL. 


LAST NIGIIT ALIVE. — FATHER TITUS’S TRAGIC ENI>! 

Father Titus, with his spies in the Gilder- 
sleeve household, was promptly informed of the 
events that had happened at the country seat. 
Closely following upon his interview with Ger- 
trude in the coachman’s house, a woman, dressed 
in deep black and veiled, had held a protracted 
interview with the young girl, the result of which 
had thrown the Gildersleeve household into a 
state of dismay and consternation ; for during the 
conference Gertrude had been suddenly stricken 
down, and the physicians pronounced her recov- 
ery hopeless. Such was the report that Father 
Titus had received. 

The priest had returned to Boston and was 
indulging in his usual evening occupations ; that 
is to say, he had assumed his comfortable dress- 
ing-gown and embroidered slippers, had put on 
his tasselled smoking-cap, and, seated in his 
stuffed easy-chair, with a fragrant Havanna in his 
mouth, a decanter of brandy handy at his elbow, 


468 


LAST NIGHT ALIVE. 


was preparing to enjoy the earned repose of a day 
spent in active labors. 

A complacent smile rested on the priest’s coun- 
tenance. He felt all that calm contentment of a 
man who sees plan after plan, scheme after 
scheme, ripening to a sure fruition, and from the 
habit of continued success, not once taking into 
account the hazards of sudden blight or nipping 
frost withering his buds of promise. 

Already in his mind’s eye he beheld his pet 
project rapidly approaching the desired end. 
Gertrude Gildersleeve, the presumptive heir to 
a vast property, with only her mother’s life-dower 
between her and its absolute possession, was com- 
pletely and inextricably under his influence. 

Now, all that remained was to precipitate Ger- 
trude into taking the final step ; to throw herself 
into the ever-extended arms of the church, and 
consecrate herself by an irrevocable act to its 
service forever. 

That act would compel the renunciation of all 
worldly wealth, and likewise include its endow- 
ment to the church. Not for an instant did 
Father Titus entertain a doubt of this happy con- 
summation. His last interview with Gertrude 
had swept away every fear, every anxiety. 

Such was his frame of mind when his servant 
Patrick came into the room bearing a letter. The 


father tituss tragic end. 


469 


handwriting at once told him that it was from his 
trusted tool. He tore the letter open. The com- 
placent smile faded from his lips. His smooth 
brow became wrinkled and corrugated. The firm 
hand which held the paper shook as if with sudden 
palsy. He dashed the letter upon the floor, pas- 
sionately stamped upon it, then again picked it 
up, smoothed it out, and once more read its 
contents. 

No ; there was no mistake ! It was not so 
much what the missive contained as what it failed 
to convey, that struck him a blow that was almost 
mortal. He read between the lines, and saw at 
I once the proud fabric he had so laboriously, so 
; cunningly constructed, come tumbling to the 
S ground ! 

And worse ! Who was this mysterious veiled 
woman, spoken of by the writer of that fatal 
letter? This woman who had imparted to Ger- 
trude Gildersleeve some secret knowledge which 
his spy had been unable to learn? And what the 
nature of that communication? What direful tale, 
what hideous revelation had been poured into his 
convert’s ear, that should have such a withering, 
blasting effect? 

His guilty fears suggested a terrible suspicion. 
He had seen less of the Delaneys of late. Hose 
no longer came to confession. The mysterious 


470 


LAST NIGHT ALIVE. 


woman who had sought Gertrude Gildersleeve 
must have been Rose Delaney ! He did not try 
to comprehend the motive ; he cared nothing for 
it ; it was sufficient to know the appalling fact 
that Rose had gone to Gertrude with the story of 
her shame and of his infamous guilt ! 

All the terrible consequences of exposure stared 
him in the face. He even forgot the blow to his 
ambition, the loss of Gertrude's heritage, in the 
overshadowing dread that he would be held up to 
public contempt, that the church would be scan- 
dalized and visit him with its severest penalties, 
that he would be torn from his high pedestal, and 
perhaps even fall a victim to the sanguinary ven- 
geance of an implacable husband. 

He sprang from his chair. Under the weight 
of all this threatened disaster, what wonder if for 
the time Father Titus was no longer a responsible, 
rational being? What wonder if, desperate, wild, 
half crazed, seeing the mountain of his sins about 
to fall upon him, he should rush to his chamber, a 
deadly purpose animating his heated brain? 

Upon a table near his bedstead stood a small 
medicine-chest. This the priest threw open. With 
agitated fingers he selected a small cut-glass vial, 
containing a colorless liquid. Unscrewing the top 
of the vial he poured a few drops of the liquid into 
a glass, to which he added some water. Then he 


FATHER TITUS’S TRAGIC END. 471 

set the vial back in its place, shut the chest, and 
raising the glass in his hand, looked steadily at its 
crystal-clear contents. 

" Ah ! thou potent elixir ! ” he said. " If I 
were only as sure thou couldst charm the soul to 
eternal slumber, as I know thou canst the body ! ” 
He put the glass to his lips. 

But some qualms still appeared to restrain him 
from his desperate purpose. 

" Bah ! let me be bold ! ” he muttered in self- 
contempt. ” If I delay I shall lose courage ! Am 
I coward as well as fool ? No ! I have nothing: 
left to live for. Life offers nought but broken 
hopes, self-condemnation, the sneer of those I 
despise, or worse still, the pity of those I hate ! 
Death is nothing. There can be no protracted 
struggle between soul and body after taking this 
quick-acting drug. It strikes like the knife or the 
bullet, at the very seat of life ; rather, like the 
lightning-stroke, annihilating with a flash ! Dy- 
ing ! The parting with loved ones — with father, 
mother, wife — I have none ! none ! Why then 
do I pause? Surely it is easier to die than to face 
ignominy, scorn, reproach ! It is but a plunge, 
and all is over. Welcome then, grim shadow ! 
Welcome then, death ! ” 

His face was frightfully pale, but his hand no 
longer shook. His iron will had braced itself to 
perform its most terrible act ! 


472 


LAST NIGHT ALIVE. 


Again lie placed the glass to his lips, then 
snatched it away, and set it down upon the table. 
A thought born of a sudden hope, dispersing as 
with a breath all the philosophy he had invoked to 
assist him to perform the awful deed, had suddenly 
given him pause. 

" Ha ! A mere suspicion after all ! ” he cried. 
" I was about to play the fool with a vengeance ! 
What if Eose had never seen Gertrude Gilder- 
sleeve ! Holy Mother ! Have I gone mad ! At 
least I will wait and know the truth from her own 
lips.” 

He went to a desk, hurriedly wrote a few lines 
upon a sheet of paper, then rang the bell at his 
bedside. Patrick appeared in answer to the 
summons. 

" You know where Mrs. Delaney lives,” said the 
priest. " Take this note to her. Give it into no 
hands but hers. Wait until she has read what I 
have written, and get her answer. If she refuses 
to do what I have requested, tell her that I am 
very sick, — nay, dying ! Stop at no subterfuge, 
no sophistry, no denial. Get her to come back 
with you at any hazard. Fail not ! Do you hear ? ” 

" Faith and I do, yer riverence ! And sure it’s 
not so bad with ye ! And sure, sure it’s not that 
ye be a-dyin’ ! ” said Patrick, in great alarm, and 
now first noticing the priest’s pallor. 


FATHER TITUS’S TRAGIC END. 


473 


w Far from it,” said Father Titus, with a wintry 
smile. "I have always found you faithful, Pat- 
rick. You have kept to yourself such secret mat- 
ters as I have from time to time intrusted you 
with. Your fidelity I shall not forget. Go now, 
and do as I have bidden you.” 

The man departed, and Father Titus seated 
himself to await the result of Patrick’s mission. 
He fixed his eyes on the dial of the mantel-clock, 
and tried to concentrate his thoughts solely on the 
movements of the minute hand; or rather, tried 
not to think at all ! A stolid look settled over his 
face. It might have been hours that he sat there, 
for all the note of time he took. At last he 
started at hearing a door open. He arose quickly, 
passed into the outer room, and found himself face 
to face with Rose Delaney. 

She made a step backward on seeing him. 

" He — he told me you were sick, dying, 
father,” she faltered, with averted face. 

He drew nearer to her, and sought to take her 
hand; but she shrank shudderingly away from 
him. 

" Oh ! ” she murmured, weeping, " I would not 
have come here if — if — ” 

And here she broke completely down, unable 
to say more. 

"Is it indeed so, Rose?” said the priest, fold- 


474 


LAST SIGHT ALIVE. 


ing his arms, and looking sadly upon the cower- 
ing figure before him. " What has happened, 
may I ask, that has induced this strange behavior 
toward me ? ” 

" Oh ! father, do not ask me, I pray, but let 
me go away at once,” said Kose, hysterically. 

"Nay, I insist on your answering,” said the 
priest, sternly. 

"My — my husband,” sobbed Kose. 

" Ha ! It is as I suspected, then ! Kose Delaney, 
have you made a confession to your — your hus- 
band ? ” 

" Oh ! forgive me, father. I could not help it ! 
He — he wrung it from me. It was not my 
fault ! ” 

" And in the face of your solemn oath — in 
spite of that vow, with all its dread penalties — 
you have dared to breathe this matter into another’s 
ear?” 

" Forgive me, father ; forgive me ! ” was all the 
frightened Kose could say. 

" Forgive you ! ” thundered the priest, giving 
way to an irrepressible burst of passion. " Kather 
will I call down up n your head the curses of — ” 

" Spare me, father ! ” shrieked Kose, in her 
terror at this awful threat, clutching at his uplifted 
arm in frantic supplication. 

" Spare you, unhappy girl ! ” repeated the priest, 


FATHER TITUS’S TRAGIC END. 


475 


his manner changing, and letting his arms fall 
listlessly to his side, while his head drooped in 
deep dejection. " Oh ! Rose ! What have you 
done? Do you know that you have slain me?” 

But Rose, struggling with contending emotions, 
had now lost all power of speech. 

" And not content with one confession,” con- 
tinued the priest, his mood again changing, "you 
dared seek one who placed implicit trust in me, — 
you dared go to Gertrude Gildersleeve, and pour 
this poison into her ear ! Speak ! Did you do 
this ? ” 

Rose, terrified, and feeling now again the power- 
ful influence of the priest, sank at his feet, grasped 
at his garments, moaning piteously, — 

"I could not help it, father! Spare me, oh! 
spare me ! John made me do it ; he compelled 
me to go down there, and I had no power to 
resist ! ” 

The priest clasped his hands before his face. A 
deep groan burst from his lips. 

" It is all over ! ” he said to himself. 

After a moment he seemed to make an effort to 
command himself, and raising the kneeling woman 
to her feet, he asked, in a strange, husky voice, — 

" Where is your husband, Rose? ” 

She gave him an uneasy look. 

"I — I do not know, father,” she said, hesitat- 


476 


LAST NIGHT ALIVE. 


" He went to New York day before yesterday. 
Why did he go there? ” 

" He — he said he was going on business.” 

" Business !” exclaimed the priest, incredu- 
lously. " But let it pass. Bose, what did your 
: husband say, how did he act, when you made 
this confession to him ? ” 

"At first I thought it had killed him, father. 
Then he raved like a madman. At last he rushed 
out of the house. It was late, and I sat all night 
trembling in my chair, waiting for him to return, 
and fearing everything terrible. But he did not 
come back until long after daylight. He had 
walked the streets all night long 1 ” 

" What did he say when he returned ?” 

" Oh ! oh ! Do not ask me ! ” implored Bose. 

"I command you to tell me t 99 said the priest, 
sternly. 

"Well, he said he had reconsidered his first 
intention. He had changed his mind.” 

" What was his intention when he rushed out of 
the house? Nay, Bose, you must and shall tell 
me all I ” 

"He — he said his first impulse was to come 
here and — and kill you, strike you dead I ” 

"Ah! Well, goon.” 

"Afterward his brain cooled. He thought of 
another way that would, as he expressed it, be a 


father titus’s tragic end. 477 

much harder punishment for you to bear. He — 
he went down town, dragging me with him. Oh ! 
father, believe me when I tell you I was not to 
blame ! I besought and prayed him not to do it.” 

"Where did you go, Rose ? 99 

"To a lawyer’s office.” 

" Ha ! ha ! To a Protestant lawyer, of course ! 99 
ironically exclaimed the priest. "Well, what 
happened there?” 

"Oh, father ! They compelled me to repeat 
the — the whole confession.” 

"Ha!” again exclaimed the priest, his hands 
working nervously, his face as pale as death. 
"And the lawyer wrote down what you said, then 
read it all over to you, and you signed the docu- 
ment? Am I correct?” 

Rose dropped her eyes, but made an affirmative 
sign. For some minutes no words were spoken. 
The breathing of the two could be distinctly heard, 
Rose’s respiration rapid and fluttering, like that 
of a wounded bird in the hand of the fowler; 
the priest’s breast laboring with deep, stertorous 
gusts, evincing the terrible agitation that oppressed 
him. 

At last Father Titus sunk down into a chair. 
His head dropped upon his breast. 

" Oh ! my God ! ” he murmured, forgetful of 
the presence of another in the room. " Thy thun- 


478 


LAST NIGI1T ALIVE. 


derbolt has found me ! Oh ! is there no refuge, 
no hope of escape? No, alas! none!” 

Then suddenly aware that Rose was still present, 
he raised his head, and pointing to the door, said 
in singularly gentle tones, — 

" Go, my child. I will not keep you longer. 
Would to heaven I could assist you in this your 
time of trial. But no creature on earth is now so 
powerless as I am. You have made me less than 
the humblest scavenger of the streets ! ” 

"Oh! father! father!” sobbed Rose, her heart 
torn at the sight of his utter misery, her eyes 
brimming with tears. 

He motioned her away, but not harshly. 

"Leave me, Rose. I have much to do, much 
to think of.” 

"Bless me, father,” sobbed Rose, throwing her- 
self at his feet, and clasping his knees. " Say 
that you forgive me before I go ! ” 

He placed his hands upon her head, then tore 
them away with sudden horror. 

" No ! no ! ” he exclaimed. " It would be an 
act of profanation, of blasphemy ! I forgive 
you, my child, fully, freely. But for heaven’s 
pardon, seek that in your closet on your bended 
knees ! Go now, my child. Farewell ! Fare- 
well ! ” 

Slowly, sorrowfully, Rose Delaney retired ; she 


FATHER TITUS’S TRAGIC END. 


479 


paused at the door, turned one last, lingering 
look on the bowed figure of her destroyer; and 
then Father Titus was alone. 

An hour passed. Suddenly throughout the 
house there resounded a dull, heavy shook, seem- 
ing to come from the apartments of Father Titus, 
and accompanied by a cry so shrill and piercing 
that it startled every inmate of the parsonage. 

A frightened throng. of priests, curates, and 
domestics came hurrying from the adjoining 
rooms. They crowded in speechless consterna- 
tion round the prostrate form upon the floor, 
which was writhing in horrible convulsions. He 
was lifted upon the bed, and still conscious, despite 
his awful distress, managed to articulate, — 

'* Send for — ” He whispered a name, and then 
continued. " Send for him, for I am dying, and 
to no other can I confess ! ” 

They hastened to do what the dying priest 
wished, and soon a man of august presence, whose 
usually mild eye now flashed with the masterful 
energy of one accustomed to meet great emer- 
gencies, hastily entered. 

With a wave of his hand he cleared the room. 
Then he bent over the dying man. 

" Father, are you conscious ? ” 

A gfes ture sififnifled assent. 

" Have you reason to believe that you are near 
your last hour ? ” 


480 


LAST NIGHT ALIVE. 


"I — am — dying,” murmured Father Titus, 
making an extreme effort to speak. 

" Have you strength to undergo confession, and 
receive the last rites of the church?” 

For answer, the priest pointed to a table on 
which was a glass and a decanter partially filled 
with wine. 

The other, understanding the motion, and 
recognizing the extremity of the case, poured out 
a glass of the wine and held it to the dying man’s 
lips. 

Now revived, Father Titus unburdened his 
soul of its doleful weight. His last words were 
so faint that the priest was obliged to bend down 
his ear close to the lips of the dying man. 

These last words, feeble and broken, and given 
with an expiring effort, were, — 

"Father, for the sake of our Holy Mother 
Church, let not this scandal ever come to the 
knowledge of the world ! There are ways to stop 
babbling lips. There are means — ” 

The listening priest gave an assuring answer, 
and then, at a signal from Father Titus, proceeded 
to administer extreme unction, — the last solemn 
ceremony to comfort and speed the parting soul. 

Ten minutes later Father Titus breathed his last. 


CHAPTER XLI. 


FUNERAL OF FATHER TITUS. — VICTIMS OF SINNERS 
IN BROADCLOTH. 

Father Titus was the Richelieu of New Eng- 
land. Politician and priest. Richelieu with his 
niece, or perhaps a bevy of nieces. The spider 
who wove his meshes in the dark. Who laid his 
wires while Protestants were asleep. Whose 
secret spies answered him day and night, as by 
telephone. The great opposer of secret societies, 
yet secret societies’ chief champion. How is he 
to win ? By making war on every other sect. No 
alliance, no compromise. Combine with infidelity 
to put down orthodoxy. Drunk or sober, no 
temperance society without the priest. No pro- 
hibition, by any means. If Wendell Phillips will 
flatter the Irish and condemn English Protestants, 
then praise him, cheer him to the echo. If he will 
lecture on Daniel O’Connell, and do it free gratis 
and for nothing, give him a -crowded house. Let 
applause burst forth from pit to dome in praise 
of the " generous, noble-hearted, silver-tongued 
orator.” But if Wendell Phillips stands for gov- 


482 


FUNERAL OF FATTIER TITUS. 


ernor, and solicits Irish votes, then scratch off 
his name. Prohibition don’t go down the Celtic 
throat. Whiskey does ! 

Liquor sellers have votes, they know their 
friends. Gamblers have sympathies, they go 
where best dealt with. Politicians know when and 
whom to flatter. Pay a veil at a lottery fair, and 
you win the election. On Sunday high mass in 
the morning and " hi ! hi ! hi ! ” in the afternoon. 
After mass, streams of men flow to the nearest 
rum shop like ducks to the water. Open bar on 
Sunday and a hundred drinks in an hour. Fifty 
in twenty minutes. This by actual count. 

How to retain power? Give a sop to liberalism. 
Let Beacon Hill play bob to the Vatican kite for 
sake of the spoils of office. Share the " divy.” 
By and by this pandering to scepticism kills the 
goose that lays the golden egg. Infidelity is the 
nursed dragon that bides its time. Woe to Cathol- 
icism when infidelity triumphs ! Woe to it when 
its sins are laid bare, and the day of reckoning 
comes ! 

Father Titus saw that Boston’s nine millions of 
taxes were to be fingered by somebody, and who 
would do more good with the money than the 
Catholics? Who could better help the church? 
Who could more conveniently drop a million or 
two, now and then, into the hands of the church? 


VICTIMS OF SINNERS IN BROADCLOTH. 483 


T\ hilt though moneyed men groan at the heavy taxes 
and move off to Newport, Naliant, and the country ? 
Their real estate, their banks and buildings, are 
here, let them pay for the great criminal and pau- 
per army, also for street laborers and church 
voters. 

What though the State interferes to prevent 
Boston’s deeper debt? Why then raise the valua- 
tion, water the stock ; tell the assessors to mark 
high ; a few millions must be had. Boston is 
superior to the State, an independent province. 
No unpopular law can be executed in Boston unless 
by Federal courts. Not even against obscene 
literature. 

Let an orthodox bank defaulter be caught, and 
woe be to him ! Loud his condemnation, and long 
his sentence. Let a Catholic take a few thousands 
and he has friends at court. Let sixteen hundred 
liquor sellers be arrested, and their cases are placed 
on hie and never called. The district-attorney has 
more power than judge or jury. He is elected by 
criminal votes. He condemns and he acquits at 
will. Let the biggest gamblers, the biggest lot- 
tery men, and keepers of the most disreputable 
houses be complained of, and the complaint will 
not get an airing. Excuse, " Want of testimony.” 

So Boston has not improved under the new 
administration of Beacon Hill and the Catholic 


484 


FUNERAL OF FATHER TITUS. 


church. Father Titus settled on Puritan soil to 
banish Puritanism from its chosen seat. And 
well has he succeeded. Boston has become the 
mart where Knock relics, holy water, indulgences, 
beads, blessings, and miracle wonders have a 
market value. Titus found Boston with but one 
Catholic church and one bishop. He lived to 
see it contain more than a score of churches, and 
become the seat of an archbishop. 

Under his fostering care, churches, institutions, 
schools, secret societies, convents, orphan asy- 
lums, arose as by magic. A Moses of the Irish 
race, he struck the desert rock of finance, and out 
pushed flowing streams of gold. Millions un- 
counted flowed like a river through his hands. 
One Catholic tells me that he handled $900,000 
in money for building one church edifice. Bun- 
dles of greenbacks, gifts from various congrega- 
tions, were piled on the floor several feet high. 
How much were spent on luxurious nieces, dames 
d’amour , pianos, furniture, horses, carriages, 
cigars, wines, brandies, palace-car travels, and 
trips to Europe, no mortal will ever know. That 
matters not so long as he won laurels to the church. 
He was decked with all the honors of the church, 
and buried in her most holy sepulchre. 

Magnificent was Father Titus’s funeral. Long 
processions of church officials and State dignitaries 


VICTIMS OF SINNERS IN BROADCLOTH. 485 


swelled the concourse. Consecrated bells spoke 
the voice of wailing as they tolled, tolled, tolled 
the solemn knell, giving forth the sad tidings with 
emphasis that a " great man in Israel has fallen.” 

Plumes decked horses and hearse. The church 
was hung in mourning ; walls, doors, windows, 
pulpit, and chancel were heavily draped in black. 
Dirges filled the sanctuary, requiems of high mass 
were responded to with sobs and tears. Candles 
blazing from altar, ceiling, and catafalque lighted 
his departing spirit from earth to heaven. Eulo- 
gies were pronounced, lauding to the skies his 
piety and his virtues. Amidst clouds of incense, 
prayers, dulcet symphonies and laudations, his 
soul tarried for a time to bid farewell to earth, 
then, with the angelic escort, took its lasting 
flight to heaven. All ! me ! Who would not be 
a priest? Who would not die in the bosom of 
the church? 

Weeping around that bier in jewelled attire 
were several of his and other priestly victims. 
Some had lost their beauty, assumed family rela- 
tions, and buried the past. Some, alas ! were 
not there, they had been buried in the tomb. 
Some were buried in that living tomb the con- 
vent. The oath of secrecy, a hundred-fold more 
binding than oath to Deity by civil magistrate, 
had held their lips sealed. 


486 


FUNERAL OF FATHER TITUS. 


To Father Titus they had yielded as to a divine 
being. He appeared as a demigod. His noble 
physique, great magnetic nature was captivating, 
irresistible. He stood as God’s vicegerent. He 
assumed the prerogative of heaven by absolving 
sins on earth. But wasps may slay an elephant. 
So the caresses of a few fair maidens may plant 
the stings that shall kill a priest. They had been 
taught that to "yield to the priest is to honor 
God. The priest can do no wrong, lie can absolve 
all.” No wonder those present were tilled with 
horror at seeing their idol so suddenly struck 
down. 

Bose Delaney was among the number who wept 
the loudest. Her heart was crushed as if in wid- 
owhood. Father Titus’s rich gifts of jewelry, 
dresses, shawls, were still in her possession, 
costly ornaments still graced her person, and the 
magic ring inscribed ” Titus to Bose” still adorned 
her delicate finger. 

Among all his female victims only one had 
dared to make oath to his crimes. Dared to 
swear to the truth in spite of the church. Dared 
its threats and maledictions. Dared to break the 
oath that binds for time and eternity. The victim 
who reveals the crimes of a priest may be forbid- 
den even to die. Must walk the earth a ghost of 
despair, amid cursings, whirlwinds, fiery flames. 


VICTIMS OF SINNERS IN BROADCLOTH. 487 


shadows and groans. Purgatory would be a haven 
of rest, hell itself a coveted relief. Such is the 
story told me by one of the faithful. 

One female, however, dared Father Titus to 
meet her in open court. She swore to years of 
continued intimacy and of most flagrant adultery. 
A suit was brought by her husband, damages laid 
high, but the case was settled by paying a few 
thousand dollars, and the matter was hushed. 
The newspapers were all silenced, and the writ, 
though served, was never recorded. Such is the 
power of the church to conceal. 

Now let a poor Protestant clergyman fall into 
crime, and the papers jump at the scandal. They 
gloat with affected horror at the sight, and blaze 
with lugubrious lamentations. 

At the same time, a Catholic priest may be incar- 
cerated for days in the lock-up, and nothing is said 
by the press. The public to this day may be 
wholly ignorant of the fact. Fair play ! Fair 
play ! Oh, ye gentlemen of the press, give us 
fair play ! Though we be weak in politics and 
small in the land of our birth, yet we ask at least 
justice. 

" Why, Mr. Morgan, you will offend your best 
friends.” 

No, no, they know me too well. They know 
my motives, and my object. The true Catholic even 


488 


FUNERAL OF FATHER TITUS. 


wants to see the priesthood reformed, and the 
church purified. 

" Well, how can the church be reformed? ” 

Ans. Not by powers within, but by powers 
without. If the bishop’s seal holds the destinies of 
all men, then strike at the seal, strike at the cro- 
zier, the mitre. 

'’Then you would appeal to the pope.” 

No ! As well appeal to a dead Napoleon. 
America says to all foreign potentates, " Hands 

off.” 

" How then can you touch the mitre ? ” 

By public opinion. Vox populi , vox Dei. 
Awaken a volcanic force that shall make the hand 
that holds the sceptre tremble in its grasp unless it 
yields to reform. 

Yet Boston has far worse sinners than Catholics. 
Who are they ? They are sinners in broadcloth. 
Sinners schooled, not in the church, but in the dis- 
sipations of Paris. Old-country habits have poi- 
soned American life. Left-handed marriages have 
crept in, two establishments are allowed. Degen- 
erate sons of noble sires are aping the rotten aris- 
tocracy of effete monarchies. 

Boston has her kin £s. Ivinsrs of Finance. Kinirs 
of Commerce. Kings of Learning. All honor to 
them ! They have dignified her name ! Given 
honor to her institutions ! Spanned the continent 


VICTIMS OF SINNERS IN BROADCLOTH. 489 


with railroads, built colleges. Spread her philan- 
thropic intelligence abroad. Upheld her integrity 
to all the world ! 

But she has also other kings. Despot Midas- 
es, at whose touch all things turn to gold, but 
whose moral influence is like the seething simoon, 
or blighting volcano. Whose fiats go forth to blast, 
to scorch and to destroy. Who defile and des- 
ecrate ! Whose trophies are broken hearts ! 
Whose achievements are sundered ties and wasted 
lives. Whose victories are over the weak, the 
frail, the poor, the unprotected. 

There are domestic tragedies in Boston that do 
not find their way into the public prints. Wealth 
may hide its shameful secrets while pauper vices 
are bruited to the world. Now and then, how- 
ever, a skeleton is unearthed. Why do I speak of 
this? To awaken moral indignation. Warn the 
unsuspecting. Open the eyes of the public. Let 
these ruthless Money Kings, Kent Kings, Kings of 
Trade, know that though they may defy society, 
contemn the church, break the law, yet God does 
not sleep ! His judgments are sure ! Their sins 
shall find them out ! 

Here is an instance : A young and beautiful 
wife. Wife of a clergyman. A King of Trade 
casts his eyes upon her. She resists, hesitates, 
falls at last. She returns to her country home, 


490 


FUNERAL OF FATHER TITUS. 


veiling her shame under the sanctity of her hus- 
band’s name. 

Another : The wife of a wealthy contractor. 
Purchasing more goods than she cared to have her 
husband know, she begs the merchant prince not 
to present the bill. He consents to withhold it, 
but at a fearful cost, — the price of her soul. 

Here is a Rent King. A beautiful woman whose 
husband lies sick, is unable to pay the rent. She 
comes pleading for mercy. Wealth names the 
price. Beauty, innocence, and poverty, bow ! 
That pure home is desecrated forever ! 

O, Boston, Boston ! Once the pride of all 
America ! Beacon light of freedom ! Shield of 
the exiled ! Refuge of the oppressed ! Home of 
culture ! What shall be thy doom ? 

Boston is New England’s headquarters of temp- 
tation. The monster mill that grinds and crushes 
innocent beings, gathered from every New Eng- 
land State. The gigantic serpent that charms, 
envenoms, and consumes. Thousands of guileless 
and unsuspecting ones are fascinated and enticed 
from their country homes, and become food for 
the serpent’s maw. 

This food furnishes a virus that beats back in 
poisonous veins to every hill-top and home. 

A hundred Minnie Marstons die yearly in Bos- 
ton. 


VICTIMS OF SINNERS IN BROADCLOTH. 491 


Maine and New Hampshire groan at every throb 
of Boston’s wicked heart. 

The contaminations of her poison, rum-shops, 
brothels, her gambling dens, her licentious amuse- 
ments pulsate back to every city and town. 

The pine woods of Maine whisper sighs over her 
lost children. Maine’s struggle against strong 
drink is marvellous. She cries, " O greedy Bos- 
ton, do not force the cup to our children’s lips ! ’ 

The granite hills of New Hampshire look down 
in grief and sorrow upon her desolate homes, 
robbed to till Boston’s dens of shame. 

The ivaves of the Connecticut, the Merrimac, 
and Penobscot bear tears, sorrows, and wailings to 
the sea. The sea takes up the lamentations and 
pours them into Boston Harbor. 

Ten thousand cyprians walk her streets. One 
thousand die every year. Placed hand to hand 
they extend a mile. One mile of human beings 
marching in funeral procession to the grave. 
Three hundred victims in the prison-house at 
Deer Island. 

In sisrht of Deer Island is Nahant with its four 
millions of gold. Summer seat by the sea ! 
Hark, a storm ! The beetling crags beat back 
ocean’s tempestuous charges and laugh at the 
wreck of waves breaking at their feet. 

In those cells are three hundred victims who 


492 


FUNERAL OF FATHER TITUS. 


could not resist the waves of temptation. Instead 
of standing up like the rock, they bent their 
heads like the willow. 

Solicitations of pampered libertines glittering in 
wealth were more potent than ocean waves. 

Hark, some are dying ! The cries of three 
hundred Deer Island cells echo their moanings to 
the sea. 

Two great sewers pass down Boston Harbor. 
One empties to the sea. The other through 
Deer Island to eternity. One now in construc- 
tion to Moon Island beneath the surface tunnel- 
ling the ocean. The other a great moral sewer 
of sin. Outlet of Boston’s death streams. 

Hear, O Heaven, the groans of the victims ! 
Witness their sighs and prayers ! Here I build a 
pyramid of woe ! It is made of broken hearts ! 
On this funeral pile let me gather the tears and 
prayers of the disconsolate, the sighs and lamen- 
tations of parents and children, the anguish of 
broken hearts and the ashes of desolated homes, 
until there goes up from beneath the altar of the 
blood of them that are slain one universal prayer, 
r 'How long, O Lord God Omnipotent, dost thou 
not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell 
upon the earth” 


CHAPTER XLII. 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. — FUN, FUN, BREAD OR NO 
BREAD. 

"Rejoice, oh young man, in thy youth; let 
thy heart cheer thee.” (Ecc. xi. 9.) That text 
suits young men of to-day, and it ’s about the only 
text that pleases the majority. They interpret it, 
" Go it while you Te young ; when you get old 
you can’t.” Solomon knew how it was himself. 
He ’d been there. When young he went in for a 
good time. In his later days he got into trouble. 
Then he put a handle on the text, — a " but.” He 
said, " But know thou for all these things God 
will bring thee to judgment.” Boys, to-day, 
take the text without a handle; without a "but” 
or "if.” They jump the consequences; dodge 
the "hereafter.” Their catechism reads, First , 
"What is the chief end of man?” Answer, — 
"Fun.” Second , " What the main object in life?” 
Answer, — " How to be amused ; how to get to 
the next show.” Give them their choice, present 
to them fun or fortune, fun or fame, fun or bread, 
and they say, " Give us fun, bread or no bread !” 


494 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. 


They must have fun ! fun ! fun ! even with the 
elbows out and toes on the ground ! fun, lodg- 
ings or no lodgings ! fun at any cost ! fun, though 
the heavens fall. What is this fun? Horse- 
racing, boat-racing, ball-playing, billiards, bicy- 
cles, betting, pedestrianism, " taking a drop,” 
singing, "Rah! rah! rah! We won’t go home 
till morning.” 

What a change in twenty years ! Then sin was 
considered a transgression to be punished. Now, 
an infirmity to be condoned. Then trade was 
based on confidence. A man’s word was as good 
as his bond. Now it is based on distrust, and 
watched by private detectives. Then bankrupts 
and defaulters were few. Now, many. Then 
young men were economical. Now they spend 
more for cigars and luxuries than they do for 
bread. Then they bought their clothes, and car- 
ried them home themselves. Now if they buy a 
box of paper collars, it must be sent home on 
wheels. Once it was thought an honor to saw 
wood for exercise. Now wood-sawing: is left to 
tramps. 

Then morality was required in a clerk. Now, 
smartness and cheek. Then clerks were intro- 
duced to the minister as a token of respectability. 
Now they are introduced to the prima donna of the 
theatre or demijohn. Then they read the Prayer 


FUN, FUN, BREAD OR NO BREAD. 495 

Book and Bible. Now, the Sunday papers. Then 
lotteries were not advertised. Now they are our 
Sunday reading. Then there were no Sunday 
horse and steam cars, or steamboat excursions. 
Now pleasure parties every Sunday, crowded 
steamboats, and open liquor bars. Then three or 
four theatres sufficed for Boston. Now, forty 
theatres more or less. Half of them Sunday- 
night seances. Then suicides and murders were 
rare. Now three murderers are hung in New 
England on a single day. Then pre-natal mur- 
ders were few. Physicians tell us there are now 
50,000 abortions every year in Massachusetts. 
Then pool-selling was not in vogue. Now, with- 
out a $500 pool tied to their tails, horses won’t 
trot, and games of base- ball can't be played. 

Owners of horses and trotting parks confessed 
before the Legislature that parks won’t pay, and 
horses won’t trot, without betting. Those men 
came up before the Legislature in mourning. 
They sat on the anxious-seat. The Jerusalem of 
their hopes was in ruins. The grand stand echoed 
no more the starting bell. Music was hushed. 
Trotting was suspended. Their harps were hung 
on the willows of Charles Liver. Why ? Because 
the law forbids pool selling at the race-course. 

Twenty years ago liquor investments in Bos- 
ton were only five millions. Now they are fif- 


496 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. 


teen millions. Then Sunday liquor selling was 
under a ban. Now there are more persons in the 
liquor shops Sunday than there are in the churches. 

Then Boston was all on fire with religious zeal. 
Park Street Church had its signs out : "Come in” ; 
"Meeting every evening” ; " Strangers welcome.” 
Then the Old South Chapel in Spring Lane was 
filled every morning with earnest worshippers. 

The rooms of the Christian Association, Tre- 
mont Temple, were packed every noon. Then the 
Methodists, full of zeal, "held the fort” at the 
North End. Father Mason on his battle ship at 
the "Black Sea.” Father Taylor combating sin 
at North Square. Phineas Stowe, a power at the 
Bethel. Dr. Nicholson electrified crowds at St. 
Paul’s. Dr. D. C. Eddy had a continued revival 
at the Harvard Street Church. Young Manning, 
the pet of the Boston ministry, filled the Old 
South with new-born zeal. Dr. Huntington 
aroused the Episcopal ranks, and stirred the whole 
city with his home-mission work. 

Even Dr. Hale’s church on Castle Street was 
opened for Father Mason’s meetings, and Dr. Kirk 
had just sent out among his converts D. L. Moody, 
the evangelist, and John B . Gough. Then glorious 
were the days of our Zion. But why this decline ? 
Because crime is rampant. Rogues are bold, and 
the laws are defied. Grim murder stalks through 


FUN, FUN, BREAD OIL ISO BREAD. 


497 


the land. Hidden crimes are hourly brought to 
light. Unburied victims, swept up by the tide, 
rise from the river like accusing ghosts, demand- 
ing vengeance on the heads of their destroyers. 
Boston’s Sabbath bells never toll without striking 
the knell of some unburied, murdered victim. 

The walls of the Sabbath are broken down. 
The Bible is discarded. The arm of the law is 
paralyzed. Open, Sunday theatres, concerts, ex- 
cursions, and empty churches. The conscience of 
Boston is killed. She has sown the wind, and is 
reaping the whirlwind. Then ! and now ! O what 
a change in twenty years ! 

Now what is the cost of Boston’s fun ? Boston 
paid last year for public schools, $1,700,000 ; for 
sports and amusements, $2,500,000 : nearly a 
million more for fun than for education. Boston 
supports forty theatres, more or less, ten regular, 
ten irregular, and twenty Sunday-night theatres 
in the shape of spiritual seances, all charging 
admittance fees. There are seances from five 
cents to $1.00. There you have a regular variety 
show with a full bill of attractions : ghost-show- 
ing, cabinet tricks, sleight-of-hand, with curtains, 
cabinet-boxes, dark lanterns, trap-doors, ringing 
bells, sounding guitars, lifting pianos, untying 
ropes, showing of hands, heads and faces, — made 
to order out of plaster, wax, and rubber, costing 

32 


498 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. 


twenty-five cents apiece. Oh, piety ! what sac- 
rilege is committed in thy name ! What perform- 
ances for Sunday evening ! What jugglery, 
under the disguise of spirit communications ! 
What a farce of sacred things ! What trifling 
with the tenderest emotions and affections of the 
human heart ! What mockery ! What decep- 
tions, what false messages, duping the sorrowing 
and bereaved with fancied glimpses of loved ones 
lost ! All this imposture permitted, even pro- 
tected, on Sunday night in Boston, — the highest 
cultured city in America ! 

Yet there is worse to come. I speak not of the 
theory of Spiritualism, but of humbugs. Not of its 
sincere believers, but of its quacks and charlatans. 
From their Delphian dens spreads a poison that 
severs the most sacred of home ties ! Noxious 
nightshade, wdiose deadly venom contaminates the 
moral atmosphere of hundreds of households ! Here 
the neophyte first turns the glowing pages of that 
book whose doctrines lead down to death ! Here, 
under pretence of exploring heavenly mysteries, is 
held the pernicious worship of Yenus and Astarte ! 
Here meet the tempter and the willing dupe ; here 
false oracles assume prophetic inspiration, only to 
deceive ! Here, from her mystic tripod, the 
modern Pythoness issues her decrees, pregnant 
with fate ! At her word the holiest altars are 


FUN, FUN, BREAD OR NO BREAD. 


499 


ruthlessly desecrated ! By her voice is pro- 
nounced the doom of myriad confiding hearts. At 
her unhallowed shrine many a Croesus lays down 
his oblation of gold, only to be betrayed. Lured 
by her false beacons, many a rich-freighted argosy 
is wrecked, many a youthful hope driven on the 
rocks of despair. 

Now for the facts. In the lap of one of these 
sibyls, a bank president heaped the savings of 
thousands of trusting depositors. No wonder that 
bank failed ! Another instance : the treasurer of 
three corporations forsakes his family to bask in 
the smiles of the sorceress, and yields to her cir- 
cean charms. Upon her he lavishes the rich hoards 
confided to his care. No wonder those corpora- 
tions are insolvent ! Look at that stricken wife, 
whose husband has been alienated, crying, " Oh ! 
I have not deserved this ! I have been true to my 
husband, yet am forsaken ! I have no desire to 
live ! Let me die ! ” She plunges from the ferry- 
boat, and the dark waters close over her forever. 

Another — a frenzied wife — swallows the fatal 
drug, expires at her husband’s feet, crying, " This 
is your work! I die ! I die!” There is a wife 
leaving home, husband, children, to die an outcast, 
all by the delusions of free love. On her death- 
bed she shrieks, " Oh ! Too late ! Too late ! I 
see my folly ! Oh ! my husband ! Oh ! my chil- 
dren ! my children ! ” 


500 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. 


Now who are these priestesses of virtue ? These 
oracles of fate, that hold the destiny of the mighty ? 
What their record? What their character? Of 
the twenty mediums who have been investigated 
for this book, nineteen have changed their ” affin- 
ities,” some of them a score of times. Fifteen 
have been divorced, and they have caused three 
times fifteen divorces in other families. F our have 
been arrested for pre-natal murder, one is now 
serving seven years in prison, and three are out on 
bail. The other sixteen are pursuing their nefari- 
ous occupation unmolested, while many a sacred 
altar trembles in the scale, and many a home-guar- 
dian shudders at the impending fate of the next 
hour. Now for the fun of the thing. 

Boston’s theatres to-day are given almost wholly 
to fun. But little is there in them to develop high 
character, high sentiment, or high acting. Why 
did Booth run behind $8,000 in a few weeks at the 
Globe Theatre? Because the patrons of that 
theatre had been demoralized by travesty and ex- 
travaganza, and could not appreciate artistic act- 
ing. The variety show, burlesque, song and dance 
have lowered the taste and standard of theatrical 
performances almost to demoralization. A fight 
of a dog and a bear, a wrestling match or pugi- 
listic encounter, attract more than the classical 
drama. Actors on all fours draw ! The more 


FUN, FUN, BREAD OR NO BREAD. 


501 


legs, the more dollars ! Hamlet must give way 
to the " Lone Fisherman ” ; Macbeth to the " heifer- 
dance ” ; the Roman daughter of Virginius to the 
captain’s daughter of "Pinafore.” 

So Boston morally declines ; live thousand idle 
young men, educated in Folly’s school, — the 
" fool’s paradise,” — seeking only fun ! What seeds 
sprouting for future harvest ! What a harvest of 
woe in store for young men ! Blindly they sow in 
smiles, to reap in tears. Anna Dickinson says she 
left the platform for the stage, because she had 
nothing to say that the public wanted to hear. 

Nothing to say ! Nothing to say, when vice is 
gathering its holocaust of victims ! When intem- 
perance staggers unblushing through the streets ! 
Nothing to say, when so many idle and vicious 
need warning, entreating, rescuing from sin ! 
Nothing to say, when the poor, ignorant, starving, 
need comfort and help, need to be inspired with 
uplifting, self-reliant zeal and faith in God ! Noth- 
ing to say ! Can it be ? Has a woman nothing to 
say whose voice once thrilled the nation for the 
downtrodden and oppressed? Ah! why has she 
nothing to say? It is this : because she has lost 
faith in humanity, — lost heart ! 

What are Boston’s needs? She needs a vol- 
canic commotion for upheaval that shall shake her 
from her sins. She needs eloquent men and 


502 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. 


women to electrify and fire the masses with holy 
ardor ; tongues of fire, hearts that burn, zeal that 
kindles. I see before me hundreds of willing 
souls waiting for the opportunity ; waiting anx- 
iously, though idle ; waiting like the prophet 
Isaiah, dumb, speechless, until the sacred fire 
from the altar of God touches the lips, the angel 
gives the word, uttering the prophetic call. 

Oh ! for an angel's voice to inspire Boston’s young 
men ! Oh ! for a prophet’s warning cry to arouse 
them to act their part on the stage of life ! Up, 
up, up ! Young men ! up ! for the battle of life ! 
See the crimson dawn ! the day-star on high ! 
Hear the matin-call, awake ! Awake to life’s 
duty ! Hark ! the herdsman’s horn ! the glee of 
voices, and the din of wheels ! Awake ! awake ! 
’T is but a day you have to play your part. Oh ! 
play it well ! Soon the curtain shall fall on life’s 
fitful drama, when its last act shall merge thee into 
eternity ! Then the soul, disrobed of the mortal, 
shall put on immortality. Then the arena be 
changed. Then the stage transformed from earth 
to heaven. Then the stars be the foot-lights ; then 
the heavens departing as a scroll by the rising 
curtain. Then the sound of many waters and the 
voice of mighty thunders shall be the orchestra. 
Then the resurrection trump shall be the prompter. 
Then the knell of time be the bell-call to the new 


FUN, FUN, BREAD OR NO BREAD. 503 

theatre of action, and the drama’s last castatrophe 
be the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds ! 
Thus life’s tragedy ends, and eternity begins. 
Now for the moral : What is man’s highest call- 
ing? What his highest stage of action? ’Tis 
this: to live right, — to die right! To live for 
humanity ; for God and eternity ! Life is a stage ; 
every man a player. Who has the best record on 
high? Who will pass muster at the last day? 
Speak ! ye actors of the past ! 

Here comes Garrick, divested of his kingly 
robes. Speak! Garrick. What hast thou done? 
" I held the mirror up to nature ; softened men’s 
hearts, melted them to tears ; portrayed the 
heroic.” Very well. Pass on ! Here comes 
Forrest. What hast thou done ? ” I stirred the 

savage in man’s breast, and awoke his softer 
nature.” Very well. Pass on! Here comes Kean. 
What hast thou done ? ”1 stormed the castles of 

prejudice, subdued hearts, and won the world’s 
applause. My heart was a volcano of passion.” 
Here comes Mrs. Siddoris. What hast thou done ? 
w I ennobled my sex. I personated female heroism ; 
made virtue beautiful, vice odious.” Here comes 
Charlotte Cushman. What hast thou done ? "I 
typified the noblest virtues ; led a stainless life.” 
Here comes Macready. What hast thou done? 
"I strove to elevate the stage ; fought against vice ; 


504 


COST OF BOSTON’S FUN. 


personated the noblest characters in the world’s 
history.” Here comes the preacher, grandest 
actor of all, — Whitefield. What hast thou done ? 
" I followed the footsteps of Him who cometh with 
a crown of thorns from the brow of calvary. I 
consoled the penitent, reclaimed the fallen, sought 
the lost, led sinners up to God ! ” Welcome, thou 
favored of the Most High ! Highest thy seat ! 
Brightest thy crown ! Superior thy glory to all 
actors and all artists ! For " He that eonverteth 
a sinner from the error of his ways shall shine as 
the sun, and they that turn many to righteousness 
be as the stars of the firmament, for ever and 
ever ! ” 


CHAPTER XLIII. 


boston’s two hundred and fiftieth anniver- 
sary. — CAN BOSTON BE REDEEMED V 

On Friday, Sept. 17, 1880, Boston celebrated 
its two hundred and fiftieth anniversary. It was 
a remarkable day, long to be remembered, a 
gala day. September’s golden sun never shone 
from a fairer sky. Autumn leaves from elm- 
trees on Boston Common seemed unwilling to 
fall, as the gentle breeze swept their fellows over 
the graves of the fathers ! Those graves seemed 
clad in richest verdure, kissed by recent rains, 
and blooming in sweetest odor for the occasion. 
The voice of the zephyr through tall trees, 
over century-made mounds, whispers, " Peace ! 
peace to their ashes ! ” The waters of Massachu- 
setts Bay, dancing in the sunlight, and warbling 
around Bunker Hill, sing dulcet symphonies of 
patriotic joy. This was nature’s tribute to the 
heroic dead ! 

All nature is in sympathy, and all of Boston 
puts on her gay attire. Streets and parks are 
decorated, and filled with processions, civic, mili- 
tary, and mercantile. 10,000 persons move in 


506 


boston's anniversary. 


line ; forty bands supply the music, while 300,- 
000 persons come in on the steam-cars alone. 
As a Boston trait, however, the speculator, the 
huge monopolist, takes advantage of the carnival 
to advertise his wares. Men undermining all 
small traders, selling goods at less than cost to 
break others down, getting advertisements at half 
price, and orphan help still less, saw in this their 
way to advertise through a million of people and 
a million of newspapers for nothing. 

All business is suspended except the liquor 
business. Liquor men, stable men, and sports- 
men reap large fortunes. Indeed, the celebra- 
tion was concocted more in their behalf than for 
patriotism, an ex-liquor seller being chairman. 
While out of work the fingering of a few thousand 
of the appropriations is a convenient pastime ! 

On this day the bronze statue of John Win- 
tlifop, founder of Boston, saint and patriot, was 
unveiled. The mayor, who had tried every means 
to get a few extra thousands for his political strik- 
ers to spend, pronounced the eulogy of that great 
and good man. The address was delivered in the 
Old South Meeting-House, which was trimmed in 
holiday array, echoing with artistic song, and with 
the semblance, at least, of prayer. 

Faneuil Hall also aspired for the honors of the 
celebration. On hinges once refused to Daniel 
Webster, her historic doors swung wide open, to 


CAN BOSTON BE REDEEMED? 


507 


welcome invited guests ; mayors, governors, sen- 
ators, members of cabinet, honoring the occasion 
with their reverent presence. 

The heart of the whole nation was turned to- 
wards Boston. Boston, the original seat of learn- 
ing, wealth, piety, patriotism, and commerce ! The 
spirit of her ancient devotion was responded to 
by millions of hearts. And thus for her past his- 
tory and glory was she honored. Alas! alas! 
the Boston of 1776 is no more ! Puritanism has 
given way to modern paganism. Patriotism to 
greed. Devotion to sensuality. Sacrifice for self. 
Rise ! rise ! ye Goths and vandals ! If degenerate 
Rome must fall, then let rugged barbarism sup- 
plant effete civilization ! 

God’s noblemen ! were those old Puritan fa- 
thers ! Peers of heaven ! Chosen saints of God ! 
JVIen who lived not for self, but for their fellow- 
men ! Not for the present moment, but for pos- 
terity. Not for time, but for eternity. Not for 
sordid greed, but for a heavenly crown. 

Like the Jews, they had no festivals without 
religion. No gatherings without God’s invocation. 
With them education was next to revelation. The 
Bible the standard of all morality. Intoxication 
a phenomenon. Suicides and murders almost 
unknown. Rev. Nathaniel Ward writes that he 
lived seven years in the colonies and saw but one 
drunken man. How is it now? Why there are 


508 


boston’s anniversary. 


more than one hundred drunken men in Boston 
every day. Sometimes as many as one hundred 
in the courts, and nearly as many women. Wo- 
men are picked up and dragged to the station- 
house in express-wagons, like live stock borne to 
the slaughter ! 

Our fathers ! Where are they ? Alas ! we 
have no fathers now but city fathers ! They tax 
to the death, then spend the money for empty 
shows to win ignorant votes. Rich men are 
forced from the city. Boston’s biggest importer 
moved to Philadelphia rather than submit. Bos- 
ton’s greatest banker pays half the taxes of Lan- 
caster, rather than be domiciled in the city of his 
wealth. A dozen million naires have removed to 
Nahant, a score to Newport. Thus Boston is 
depleted of her rich men, while taxes rise from 
$12 to $16 on a thousand. 

What is this celebration for? What does it 
commemorate? Out of respect to the founders, 
how much more appropriate to celebrate the day 
in sackcloth and ashes ! To spend it in fasting, 
humiliation, and prayer! To invoke God’s mercy 
and God’s help to free the people from sin. Let 
every citizen practise Puritan virtues at le^st for 
a day ! Let them practise self-denial, self-sacri- 
fice. Let every liquor shop and gambling den 
be closed. Let the tens of thousands of parasites 
living on the hard earnings of the industrious go to 


CAN BOSTON BE REDEEMED? 


509 


work ! Do one honest day’s work in their lives ! 
One day of Puritan living would be a marvel ! 
We have old folks’ concerts, and tableaux; now 
give us the men, the God-fearing men of olden 
times, if you can. 

"But the trades’ processions were to exhibit the 
arts, show the improvements of the age ! ” 

Yes, but more profitable would it be to show 
improvements in men, rather than in machines ! 
Take the printing-press, for instance. In that 
procession was Franklin’s old press, and also the 
new invention. However, since the press with 
its Sunday papers has almost supplanted the 
pulpit, thoughtful, Christian people may look 
upon its power with alarm. What hope for the 
country without morals, and without Christianit}' ? 
And what hope for Christianity without a Sabbath ? 
The press does more to break down the Sabbath 
than all other forces combined. 

Again, there were exhibited the intricate lock, 
and the safe ; works of superior mechanism and 
skill. Once, however, honesty was our best se- 
curity. The time was when the latch-string or 
the unbolted window was sufficient protection. 
Honest men are better safeguards than bolts and 
bars. 

Fire engines were also paraded, new and old. 
Still, an old engine in an honest community gave 
better protection than the new invention. Look 


510 


boston’s anniversary. 


at the seven recent great fires in Boston, all by 
the hand of the incendiary ! First, ^Tremont 
Temple fire. Ten minutes before Tremont Tem- 
ple was ablaze, two men were in an eating-house 
near by, in conversation. One says, "This will 
be the biggist fire that Boston has had for a long- 
time !” "That is so; it will be a stunner !” was 
the reply. Ten minutes later, the bells rang, and 
cries of " Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! ” filled the streets. 
Up sprang the men, and out they went to see the 
sight. The side door of the Temple was un- 
locked ; the great organ was ablaze, and in half 
an hour Tremont Temple was no more. Old 
Pine Street Church met a similar fate by the hand 
of the incendiary. 

Recently, the store of Lewis & Brown, on 
Summer Street, was found on fire. It was at 
dusk of evening, — the time when such fires 
usually occur. Another store was ignited at the 
same time, near by. And to make the conflagra- 
tion doubly sure, alarm was sounded from Sud- 
bury Street to draw off the engines. The loss 
was enormous ! 

Again, close by this was the fire at Rice & 
Kendall’s, costing quarter of a million. Build- 
ings supposed to be almost fire-proof melted like 
wax. Still another on Winthrop Square, cost- 
ing half a million. All by the torch ! 

And further still. While that procession was 


CAN BOSTON BE REDEEMED? 


511 


moving with its splendid engines, one being from 
New Jersey, word ran along the line of street 
gazers, "There will be a chance to try them to- 
night. It will beat Jordan & Marsh’s electri 
light on the Common ! ” And sure enough, a 
lumber yard on Albany Street soon lighted the 
evening sky. It was a frightful blaze ! vast piles 
of lumber, more than would be consumed in fifty 
houses, lighted up the waters of the harbor, and 
illumed the whole heavens. 

Now, in the face of these unprecedented crimes, 
we are called upon to celebrate. Celebrate what? 
What but to glory in our own shame ! Who has 
asked for this celebration? Who but politicians 
greedy to handle the money? Rats in an old 
cheese ! small mice, however, must keep out ; the 
Orangemen with Bible in hand were peremptorily 
forbid to march in the ranks. They were too 
puritanical. " No Bibles allowed ! ” And this 
in honor of the Bible-reading, school-planting, 
church-going Puritan fathers. 

In former celebrations the children of the pub- 
lic-schools took a prominent part. Children were 
the pilgrims’ hope and pride. Free schools were 
New England’s boast and glory. Yet in this 
procession there was not a group, nor a child, 
except those on whose banners might be inscribed 
" Death to Free Schools ! Twenty years lienee 
free school-houses will be for sale or to let!” 


512 


BOSTON’S ANNIVERSARY. 


Can Boston be redeemed? Yes! yes! A 
thousand times yes ! When the God of heaven 
is invoked more than the courts of earth. When 
He that turneth the hearts of the people, as rivers 
of waters are turned, shall take the lead. When 
the pulpit shall sound alarm and the press shall 
re-echo the cry. When the thousand agents of 
this book and their hundred thousand readers 
have done their duty. When the true Catholic 
shall think for himself, and vote as he thinks, and 
not with the demagogue ! When country legisla- 
tors shall have backbone enough to make laws 
for the city and see them executed. When a 
metropolitan police shall be elected that cannot 
be bribed. When the thousands of criminal cases 
that have been filed away shall be brought to trial. 
When the judiciary shall be reformed. 

When the victims from every New England 
State cry out, " How long, O Lord, how long ! ” 
When broken-hearted wives and mothers pierce 
the heavens with their wailings, and Boston be- 
comes thoroughly alarmed, and humbles herself 
in the dust ! Then, no more will this Babylon 
boast, "I sit a queen, am no widow, and shall see 
no sorrow ! ” But clothing herself in humility, 
she shall respect her laws, keep her Sabbaths, fear 
God, and work righteousness. Then shall her 
walls echo salvation and her gates praise. 


NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 


New York Watch-Tower , by Rev. J. C. Foster ( Baptist ). 

Uncovering Corruption. — There is a bold reformer in 
Boston who cannot be silenced by those who would coax or 
frighten him from uttering the truth concerning the wicked- 
ness of the city He is deemed eccentric, to say the least, by 
many who would by no means approve of the sins and wrongs 
which he exposes and denounces ; and while they admit the 
truth of what he proclaims as upon the housetop, they regard 
him as rather fanatical, and hardly justifiable in some of his 
utterances in condemnation of “sinners in broadcloth ” as 
well as those in meaner apparel. Rev. Henry Morgan is as 
one of the old prophets risen from the dead. His recently 
published book, “Boston Turned Inside Out,” is a terrible 
revelation of the sins of a great city. It is a book that will 
be, as it ought to be, read, however much it may be decried ; 
and whatever attempts may be made to suppress it, edition 
after edition will be issued, to the discomfiture of evil-doers 
in either high or low places, socially or ecclesiastically. Five 
editions have already been demanded, and this, probably, is 
not a tenth of what will be required. The portrayal of in- 
iquity found in the book is odious and hideous, but truthful, 
nevertheless, and though the exhibition is exceedingly dis- 
gusting, its mission is benevolent and philanthropic. With an 
untrembling hand the covering is removed from the exten- 
sively prevalent drinking, gambling, quackery, medical mal- 
practice, baby farming, debauchery and criminality in respect- 
able circles, as well as elsewhere. Seldom has there been 
such an arraignment of the Roman Catholic priesthood, and 


it must be effective in some direction, exposing the author to 
the wrath of Rome, if nothing more. The infamous conduct 
cf one of the highest ecclesiastics in New England is set 
forth in an amazing, as well as repulsive light, in the record 
given of “Eather Titus,” a real character with a fictitious 
name, the developments being almost incredibly abominable. 
A greater scoundrel could not well be imagined than this 
high papal functionary is shown to be, and yet it is no fanci- 
ful description, but awfully truthful, as can be proved. The 
original of this “Eather Titus” can be identified by not a 
few of the readers, though the press of Boston has never 
alluded to his well-known rascalities so as to designate the 
offender. When clergymen outside of the Romish Church are 
only suspected of indiscretions and misdemeanors, the Boston 
papers are quick to advertise, post, journalize, transcribe and 
herald the matter in the most disgusting details ; but when a 
Catholic priest indulges even in the vilest and most atrocious 
criminalities, they are silent as the grave. It is remarkable, 
if true, as is stated, that a Romanist should be connected 
with the editorial or other management of almost, if not 
quite, every daily paper in Boston, and that nothing damaging 
to the reputation of the papal priesthood can find a place 
in the columns of any one of these dailies. Mr. Morgan says 
that all the evils of which he writes were known to the press 
before he obtained the facts in his possession, and that even 
the crimes of “ Eather Titus ” were familiar to the editors, 
but all mentioning of them was hushed. This is an ominous 
state of things. There was great commotion among the 
Catholics upon the appearance of Mr. Morgan’s book, but 
nothing has yet been done about it, and probably there will 
be a “ masterly inactivity ” in regard thereto, becau e the 
hierarchy is too shrewd to call out further exposure of priestly 
corruption and moral rottenness. It should not be under- 
stood, however, that the book in question is aimed chiefly at 
the papists, for the liberalists are also noticed in no compli- 
mentary way, and various sins are made to appe ar exceeding 
sinful. 


Standard , Chicago , Aw#. 12, 1880, by Dr. D. C. Eddy. 

Boston Turned Inside Out is the title of a book just 
published by the eccentric Henry Morgan, who has been 
firing hot shot iuto the sins of the metropolis. The book is 
worthy of note from the fact that its central hero, Father 
Titus, is understood to be a well-known ecclesiastic of the 
Romish Church, whose dissipated life and tragic death are 
here portrayed. This Morgan is an irrepressible character. 
A good man, undoubtedly. He has entered upon a crusade 
of city reform, and is doing what other ministers cannot do. 
He compelled the Catholics at the great Cathedral Fair to 
abandon their lotteries and conform themselves to the laws. 
He secured from Gov. Long a recommendation in his inaugural 
message for a more stringent law against gambling. He has 
attacked the quack doctors until their practices stand out 
before the public. For all this he has got the cold shoulder 
from some genteel, fastidious Christian people who would 
rather see sin go on than have the naked truth told in its 
exposure. The trustees of Music Hall where he lectured shut 
him out. The quack doctors sued him for $10,000 damages. 
The Catholics secured his expulsion from the public press. 
But he compelled the trustees to open the hall. The quack 
doctors became alarmed and withdrew their suit. The Cath- 
olics who had tried to suppress his book found it impossible 
to do it, and Morgan is on the top of the wave. His methods 
are his own, but the work he is doing belongs to all good 
men. 

From the Watch Tower. 

No one can charge him with doubtful measures. His book 
and lectures are a Jonah-like cry against our New England 
Nineveh. 

From the Boston Congregationalism 

Rev. Henry Morgan is pluckily pursuing his mission, has 
taken his position manfully and squarely, and he ought to 
have the sympathy and support of all good citizens. 


From Zion's Herald . 


Rev. Heury Morgan is certainly accomplishing good ser- 
vice for the cause of virtue and purity. His crusade against 
gambling at church fairs, if it has not put a stop to them, has 
made even our Catholic neighbors very careful to avoid a 
breach of the letter of the law. His revelation of the terrible 
drinking and gambling dens in our city, and the presence in 
them of members of some of our (so-esteemed) reputable 
families, so startled the proprietors of Music Hall that they 
closed their doors upon his lectures. But the shame is in the 
fact and not in the exposure. It was not a riot of which the 
superintendent was afraid, but the revelation. Free speech 
will triumph in the end in Boston, and Henry Morgan is 
irrepressible. 


From the Golden Buie. 

There may have been other reasons for refusing Music 
Hall, but the reason given — the fear of damage to the hall 
through violent demonstrations against the speaker — ought 
to be at least thirty years too late for Boston. If a man 
can’t denounce gambling and other forms of tolerated vice, 
without danger of mob violence, it is time the fact was 
known. 

Malden Mirror , May 22. 

The police authorities of Boston want Rev. Henry Morgan’s 
book, “ Boston Inside Out,” suppressed. Better suppress the 
vices and wickedness it exposes. 

Boston Post , May 19. 

The attempt to suppress Rev. Henry Morgan’s book, “ Bos- 
ton Inside Out,” will probably only increase the demand for 
it. Mr. Morgan says he shall not suppress a line in his next 
edition, as there is not an impure line to suppress. He ex- 
pects to sell 60,000 copies in a year, as “Ned Nevins, the 
News Boy” had a run of 30,000, while this is a far superior 
book. 

7 90 "4 

















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